Guidance
by Her Name Is Erika
Summary: With prom on the way, lots of students at Pacific Coast Academy have a lot of issues. Step into Laura Whitman's office. She's listening...most of the time. COMPLETE.
1. Week One

**A/N: New idea that somehow crept into my brain, while I was writing something else.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. I only own the cool guidance counsellor. You'll meet her soon. **

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**Guidance**

**Chapter One**

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**_Week One: Monday_**

She walked into my office, with a heavy sigh, and the saddest expression I've ever seen on a person. Well, she might be worried about going into a decent college, but she shouldn't because we've had this talk already. Her grades were pretty impressive, and if UCLA didn't take her then I'll be forced to intervene to vouch for her.

She looked at me, and gave me a small smile, as she sat on my couch, dropping her decorated backpack next to her. She looked like her dog just died. God, I hope not. I love dogs, even though I'm into cats too.

Which would account for the scratches on my arm.

"I'm sorry, Laura, I just needed to come here. I didn't make an appointment or anything," she said, her face showing slight alarm. I'm Laura Whitman, but I allow the kids to call me by my first name, so that there are no barriers or anything like that. I know some are harder to reach than others.

"Zoey, it's fine, so what's on your mind?" I asked her, out of genuine concern, because I really like Zoey Brooks. When I found out, I was pregnant, she was the only one that knew, besides my husband. But now, I'm due in three and a half months, and the belly in front of me makes it quite obvious. Now, everyone knows, and the well-wishes have been awesome.

Okay, lets get off my pregnancy for the moment.

"It's just that prom is going up in a month, and everyone's been getting into the hype and stuff. I'm just really torn right now," she explained, as she quietly sniffled. I handed her the tissue box on my desk and she pulled one out, using it to dab at her eyes, and stopped the tears that wanted to fall. I silently let her know that she could continue. Seriously, she _so_ had undivided attention.

Starting…

…now…

"When I came back from England, I found out that Chase loved me. He said he was in love with me. I actually found out before he left, and I was ready to tell him that I know as I soon I got back to PCA. I was ready to just find him, and lay everything on the line, but I found out that he had moved to England thinking I was still there. When we finally did talk via webcam, we agreed on a date…"

What the…

"Uhm, Zoey? How is it possible to go on a date with someone five thousand miles away?"

"I took my laptop with me. And it was great until we lost the connection. After Quinn came by, and fixed it, we both came to the conclusion that it wasn't going to work, and agreed we could date other people. Then he told me he loved me…"

YES!

YES! ABOUT TIME!

And they think teachers don't know these things! Okay, Laura, calm down.

Calm down, and act professional. Be comforting, but not judgemental or one-sided. Partially is not the way. I cleared my throat awkwardly, and brush my bangs from my eyes.

"So, how do you feel? Are – or were the feelings mutual?"

Zoey covered her face in her hands, and looked at me, with her brown eyes shining with confusion, frustration, and I swear, I could catch a little bit of anger in them. Ah, the life of a teenage girl in distress. I'm serious. There need to be a theme song to this.

"Yes, and no," she answered, with a quite heavy sigh, and moved her hair from her face.

"Care to elaborate?"

"I mean, I told him I loved him too. I did, and I felt like I was able to sort of lay things on the table with him. So that was that, and it wasn't until a couple weeks later until I saw him, and he was Logan and Michael new roommate…" she said, as she finally developed some interest in her red ballet flats. And suddenly, I get it, because I've had a few talks with one Mr. Logan Reese. That boy is so complex. Haha. And I know he can't get along with him to a certain extent. Yet this session doesn't even revolve around Logan at all.

Zoey Brooks, Laura. Zoey Brooks.

"James Garrett?" I offered, with sympathy. Zoey looked at me, with new tears in the corners of her eyes. She nodded.

"James…" she said, finally, as a tear rolled down her cheeks. "I'm usually able to figure things out, but for once I can't. And it's sucks, Laura. It sucks."

I know how to feels to be torn. Honestly, when I found out I was pregnant I wasn't really expecting it. It was one of the most shocking things ever, because Gary's an engineer, and I was scared a baby would get in the way of his career. I'm against abortion, but if I had actually gone through with it, I think I'd hate myself forever.

And besides, I love the little girl growing inside of me all ready. I'm still working out on names. Something meaningful, you know?

"And it sucks feeling like a whale sometimes," I pointed out with a laugh, and placed a hand on my belly. She laughed through her tears, and I'm glad I could at least make her smile. It was temporary, but at least it was a smile.

"I don't want to be someone's executioner, and I love James. I really do, but I don't know if I'm _in_ love with him. I don't want to hurt anybody, and it's going to be hard because I know Chase is coming back, and James only knows him by word of mouth," Zoey explained. "I can honestly that I have feelings for both, but it's difficult for me."

Wow, is this reminiscent of Degrassi or what? The classic love triangle never gets old.

"Look, you have about a month to prom, which is roughly four or five weeks. There's a lot of time. I want you to think about it, and make a list. It's classic but works every time. One for James and one for Chase. On both sides, I want you list their strengths and their weaknesses. Like pros and cons. But think about it, and before you do anything, come here first, and we'll talk it out some more if you like. Would you like that?"

She stood, smiling, "Yeah, I would, and I'll consider your idea."

"I'm glad to hear it, Zoey."

"Later Laura. I have English class," she said, and I quickly wrote her a guidance slip because in the staff room, we know that Eleanor has a stick up her ass. And she constantly flaunts that she's had thirty years experience.

BIG FUCKING DEAL!

Ahem.

Excuse my French.

I handed the pink paper to her, and she said thank you, and was about to walk away when she turned around in my direction, a curious look on her face.

"Laura?"

"Yeah?"

"Boy or girl?"

I beamed proudly, and I can't get over the fact that she's been kicking. It's amazing.

"It's a girl, Zoey," I said, happily, and she gently hugged me in congratulations. I hugged back, because I like hanging out with my students. And interacting with them. That's the fulfilling part of my day.

I _love_ this job.

--

**_Week One: Tuesday_**

_Today was indescribable. _

_Even as a little girl, I planned my wedding. All of animals would attend, sitting up close and I'd wear a pretty white princess dress. After I kissed my husband, I'd celebrate by having the best party ever. Funny how everything planned and spawned from a six-year-old could work out. Today, as the minister droned on and on, I was in my white wedding gown, train and all. I was only mere minutes for becoming Mrs. Gary Daniel Whitman. _

_He took my hands in his, his smile radiant and he was clad in a black and white tuxedo, an ivory clad flower in his lapel. The blue eyes I fell for in college were sparkling with happiness. My happiness and joy were threatening to brim over in the form of tears that were evident in my green ones. _

"_You may kiss the bride…"_

_Our lips met in a kiss, and it was as if time stopped, and we were the only ones in the church, that sunny California day. Sure, I was aware of what happiness was, but on that day, as our friends and families broke out in cheer when we parted lips, and hugged tightly, I really knew what happiness was. _

_And that too, was indescribable. _

I've always been indifferent to Tuesdays. Seriously. It's not a random thought this time. I was born on a Tuesday, the gas prices always seem lower on Tuesday, and the best shopping sales happen on a Tuesday. It's on this particular Tuesday that I realized my fingers look slighter bigger than usual and my wedding ring will have to resized, since I'm starting to sausage fingers. On this particular Tuesday, I'm kind of thrown of guard when it's not Zoey, but her younger brother, Dustin, standing in my doorway.

He's only been in here a few times, so I know him well enough.

"So, Dustin? What can I do for you?" I questioned, as he plopped himself on the couch, facing my desk. He looked at me, and then looked at his shoes. I swear, I just saw his face turn pink. He answered, looking at me, and he was overly nervous.

Ten tucks says it's about a girl.

"Well, Laura, it's about this girl in my math class…"

YES! I RULE! I may be pregnant with somewhat swollen fingers, but I don't care. I freaking RULE!

I'm the sh – Whoopsie, my bad. I guess you can excuse my Spanish too.

I nodded, encouragingly, "Well, tell me about her."

"Well, her name is Sienna Carmichael. I don't know. She's a dark brunette, with the prettiest hazel eyes ever. Not only is she cute and really pretty, but she's cool to do homework with. It all started when she wasn't getting algebra, so I volunteered to help her. And we've been hanging out more and more ever since," Dustin explained, sighing, and ran a hand through his blond hair. "I kind of want to take her out on a date, and then possibly ask her to go to prom with me."

"Then while you're doing homework with her, just _casually_ bring it up," I offered, and then warned. "But don't sound too eager, and I know you'll probably roll your eyes at this, but just be Dustin, and no one else."

Your sister was in here yesterday, crying because she was torn about which boy she loved more.

Ah, so affairs of the heart are genetic. I clearly didn't know that. It's not sarcasm. Seriously, I didn't know.

Dustin looked at his watch, "I've got to meet her at the quad right now."

"Here's a lollipop for good luck," I said, tossing Dustin a strawberry flavoured one. I winked at him, with a smile. "Zoey asks, you didn't get me from me, alright?"

Dustin nodded, grinning like the love stoned boy I knew he was, "Gotcha, Laura. And thanks."

Hey, I listen to Justin Timberlake too. _She's got me love stoned, I think that she knows, I think that she knows. _

And I'm only twenty eight, so I don't see thirty for another two years. Okay? Okay. We're clear.

He bounded out of my office, and I realized why Tuesdays were really significant to me. On this Tuesday, I just thought of the most perfect name for the little girl, currently bouncing around inside me.

_Erin Nicole Whitman _

And on this Tuesday, it marked my sixth month of pregnancy.

I guess the indifferent approach is not one after all.

--

_**Week One: Wednesday**_

Wednesdays are the middle of the week. And something was bound to happen, as I walked into Pacific Coast Academy. I stepped into my office with Stacy Dillsen already there. What the hell?

"Hi Laura…"

She's been too here too many times. I swear, her psyche is too glass-like. Way too fragile for me, but last time I checked was PCA's psychologist. Um, yay?

I forced a smile, sitting down at my desk, with a mug of green tea. I can't have coffee. Ugh.

"So, Stacey," I cleared my throat, awkwardly bracing myself for that lisp that made it hard to forget. Don't get me wrong. I like Stacy, but when she tells me about her aspirations of being a singer, it's just that she's so far away from reality. It's just sad. "What can I help you with this…time?"

Stacy beamed, and spoke, "Well, I wrote this song, and you're the only that hasn't heard it. My mother said my singing voice was pretty. I just felt like I should sing it, and give me your feedback."

Oh no.

No. No. Oh, God. Not that sassafras song.

For the love of everything that is holy –

"You can sip it in the morning, sip in the evening, even at a quarter to three. 'Cause I like sassafras, you like sassafras, we like _sassafras_ _tea_!"

Stacey, I'm sorry, but your mother has truly and genuinely lied to you.

My ears are ringing. And I think my head is numb.

"So, how is it? You wanna to me to sing it again – "

"No!" I yelled, abruptly, and I caught the confused look in her face. I shifted in my chair, a little, and forced another smile. Twice in one morning, I'm on a roll. I tapped a nail on my now warm green tea. "Uhm, Stacey, I think you should pursue a more realistic career. Like… uh…"

Come on, brain! WORK, ALREADY!

"Like what? I like singing, Laura…"

"Broadening your horizons and such. You know, you can still keep singing as a _hobby_, but go out there and explore something else," I explained. "You'll find something that screams _Stacy Dillsen can do that!_"

Her eyes lit up, and she twirled a lock of her long brown hair around her finger, "You think?"

Um, yeah. Now, don't carry anymore tunes. I like you, Stacey. But you're tone-deaf!

I nodded, "Yes. Now, go try right now…"

"Right now?"

"Yes! Right now! This very instant!"

Stacey stood up, slinging her bag strap over her shoulder, "Okay, I'll go try another hobby. Thanks, Laura!"

Stacy Dillsen was out of my office, finally, and I was able to let out a sigh of relief.

But now my green tea is EFFING WARM!

Again, I repeat, what the hell?

--

_**Week One: Thursday **_

Hello, six months pregnant guidance counsellor here!

Okay, sorry. I'm just bouncy today, and I'm so psyched Gary and I have Erin's nursery almost finished and everything. The mere thought is giving me this crazy adrenaline rush. I found myself while driving here, thinking of Quinn Pensky for some strange reason.

So, imagine my delight where she walked in, but she had a scared look on her face, and she fidgeted. See, now I'm scared, because her 'Quinnventions' get out of control. I've heard things, okay?

"Quinn, what's wrong? Did you knock Lola and Zoey out with stun gas again?" I questioned.

"No, and I'm working out the kinks on that," she answered, shaking her head. She stared at her shoes, and then at me again. "We have to tell something, but this stays between the three of us."

I was confused. What three was she talking about? I stood up, feeling restless, and leaned against the edge of my wooden desk. I just realized this morning that I can't see my feet anymore.

Random thought or what?

And then Logan Reese walked in, closing the door. I always predicted it, but I never, ever…

Oh, damn!

Quinn and Logan shared similar smiles, looking at each other, before they held hands with their fingers interlaced. My eyes almost bugged out of my head. Seriously.

My skin is keeping me from jumping around.

YES, IN YOUR FACE, DAVID!

IN YOUR FACE, BENDER! I KNEW IT!

I'm the shit. Bottom line.

We weren't betting on the student's lives or anything. Ahem.

"Laura, Quinn and I have been dating for a few months. We're boyfriend and girlfriend," Logan admitted, with a sheepish smile. I knew it. I so knew it. Because it reminded me of how Gary and I met. But they were adorable. You think those arguments were for nothing. And the fact that Logan always told me about his latest arguments with Quinn, kinda gave him away.

There are things on the inside of Logan Reese which floored me, but he's like a younger, nuttier cousin to me. I can say out of all the students, I've worked with, I can honestly say that I feel the closest to him.

He's actually been playing the violin, since he was about six.

His parents are divorced, but he sees his mother and identical twin brother, Ethan, every other weekend.

And the list goes on and on, but the closet couple intrigues me. I'm curious now.

"So, tell me about when it happened. I'm up for a good story today," I encouraged, and they sat on my sofa, and looked each other before Quinn broke the silence.

"Well, it all started when Mark broke up with me to be with Brooke Margolin…"

--

_**Week One: Friday **_

Society sucks major, and the whole Quinn/Logan – wait, _Quogan_ (I'm so smart! That's a cute merge) thing is adorable and then the thought of them being teenagers crept in. Logan's history with the females isn't actually spotless, but Quinn is the genius smart girl. For your information, I hate, _absolutely hate_, labels. That's why I refrain from using them.

My dislike for labels seemed irrelevant, but even right now, I can understand why they want to keep it a secret. They're opposites, but the Paula Abdul song says differently. Besides, I find the secret love thing kind of romantic. Ah, forbidden love. Romeo and Julliet. Logan and Quinn. See, the parallel connection I made there?

Now, it's at the end of the week meaning that it's almost the weekend, and I can sleep.

But I put my desire for a well-deserved nap on hold, because it's Friday.

And Friday usually meant that Logan came here to talk, every week. It started because of his anger management program and then anger management was over, and he still came. His life was like those really hard books that had to be read with willpower.

Like every Friday after school, Logan stopped by.

"So, you finally realized you can't see your feet?" he asked me, with a teasing smile on his face.

"Yesterday…" I answered, truthfully. I missed my toes, and how I wouldn't be able to touch them. But there was only three months left before I could actually hold Erin in my arms. We were just so casual about things. Logan isn't the sharpest crayon, but he truly has personality and his own brand of uniqueness. "So, Logan, tell me. How do you feel about Quinn? Are you love stoned?"

Logan stared at me and shook his head, "I knew I shouldn't have uploaded that song to your iPod."

I stuck out my tongue immaturely because that's how I roll.

"Well, tough cookies, Mister. It's been in my head since Tuesday, anyway," I countered, only in a kidding manner. And then, I swear, I saw Logan's cheek flare up with a twinge of pink even though he hated blushing. "The blush in your face totally blows your cover. And I'm the guidance counsellor, so I'm supposed to know about feelings."

"Laura, this face can't blush!"

Michael says that all the time. I only hope the Perkins-Barrett ship hasn't capsized. Not cool. NOT EFFING COOL AT ALL!

"Uh, yeah. It can…"

"God, you totally suck right now…"

I grinned, "You totally love me. But seriously, how do you feel about her?"

Logan sighed, and looked me straight in the eyes, "When it comes to Quinn, Laura. I'm not just love stoned, I'm high as a kite when it comes to her…"

Now, that I've had Logan basically pour his guts out, I'm craving a smoothie. I grabbed my bag, slinging the strap over my shoulder. My car keys and everything I needed was in there.

"I've been craving a smoothie all day," I told him, and pointed a thumb behind me. "Come on, Logan. Smoothies make everyone feel all fuzzy and warm inside."

He shrugged, and we walked out of my now dark office, and the door shut, "So do milk and cookies, but I'm up for a smoothie. Chemistry's lame."

"I thought you were awesome with that though," I pointed out, a confused look taking over my features. Remember when I said Logan was like a book that was difficult to read, I stand corrected. So many complexities surrounding him, and there's always something to learn.

On this Friday, I added another little discovery to my long list of _Logan Reese_ truths.

He was definitely in love with Quinn, and she was a keeper.

Again, I repeat, I love this job.

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**A/N: Okay, so there's the first chapter. I'm planning up to six chapters, and an epilogue where Laura gives birth. Laura's not a random character. She's important to the story. I'll explain in later chapters. I hope you like Laura's random thoughts, and they made you laugh hard. **

**Review!**

**-Erika**


	2. Week Two

**A/N: My jaw hit the ground. Oh my God. The reviews for this chapter were insanely encouraging! Thank you!**

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**Guidance**

**Chapter Two**

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_**Week Two: Monday**_

It's the beginning of a tradition once again, called Spirit Week. Today, I totally own Crazy Hat Monday!

GO STINGRAYS!

"Okay, Laura, amusement parks, I'm down with, but when you suggest ridin' a rollercoaster with like a billion loopty-loops, and that's not even right. You don't spring sudden rollercoater ride on a dude. Not drippin' at all. In fact, it's so flump, it's…just…just…" Michael rambled, and ranted while in my office. He had one of those purple and light blue jester's hats on, while the little bells on it. My hat was huge, however. It was wide rimmed, with light blue and purple ribbons.

Get this.

I actually stuck the school letters on little springs so they bounce around.

Cool, huh? But I'll stray away from the cool, awesomeness of my school decked-out hat, with the floppy, and springy letters.

Michael's cool. And he loves his music, and dancing like his junk food. I've come to believe that his MP3 player is part of his body. He was really depressed after Chase left, and then a little upset when James moved in. Michael's the most adaptable person ever. Just versatile enough to ramble and pace at the same time.

I said no barriers, but I don't want a hole in my floor that goes all the way down to China.

"It's just absolutely sinful that Mr. Hurley would make you ride a rollercoaster," I sympathized. "Just breathe, Michael. You know. In with the good. Out with the bad… Catch my drift?"

"Yeah," he sighed, and then began to freak out again. "Mr. Hurley hates me. And come on, it's me! Who _hates_ me?! I was voted Mr. Congeniality for crying out loud. I'm a nice guy, right?"

Yeah, Michael, you're a real saint. Just chill out.

What did I tell you about breathing deeply? What did I say?

"Okay, Michael. Go back and tell me what brought this fear of rollercoasters?"

He thought about it, and he visibly cringed, his face twisted in one of complete distaste. So, I wasn't the only one with potentially life-scarring grandparents. Grandparents are wise people, but sometimes their brand of wisdom can sometimes be damaging.

"I love my grandpa, but God, I went through some hard times with that man, but bless his heart, though," Michael said, with a sigh, shaking his head. "Okay, I was twelve, and it was my first time at an amusement park. In Atlanta, summers are a big deal, and there was always somethin' to do. I saw the most insane rollercoaster ever, with quadruple loopty-loops, and a seventy degree drop. I didn't want to ride it, so my grandfather said…" and he proceeded to do an impersonation of his grandfather. "…boy, us Barretts take things like men. Michael, I've taken segregation with Dr. King and 'Nam! Be a soldier and ride that ride, Mike!"

"I know what you're going through. Especially with grandparents like that," I replied.

And thought my family was bad.

"_Laura, you can drive now, and I'm proud of you. But if you crash and kill us all, I disown you! Now, be a dear and throw out my ashtray."_

I hate that scratchy voice. I hate that smell of cigarettes. I hate her cheap gifts. She's dead, though, and I hate that she willed me her figurine collection.

Ha, I should break all of those glass gnomes in the attic. I'm so evil sometimes.

What kind of thing is that? I don't know…money would have been nice.

"I hate that woman…" I hissed, under my breath, and didn't even realize how angry I was getting until Michael snapped his fingers in front of me.

Michael's looking at me crazy, and I sigh. I swear I'm not crazy. Just unwillful reminiscence.

"Sorry about that, Michael," I said, and Erin kicked me, and it was one of those annoyed kicks. Okay, fine. Mommy's sorry she's upsetting you too. I gently rubbed my belly to calm her down. "Just remembering that I have crazy extended relations."

"Right. Gotcha," he answered, with a nod of his head and the bells on his hat jingled. "But what should I do?"

Well, when I'm tense, I like it when Gary rubs my feet, and then he kisses me –

Oh, God. Almost trailed of into forbidden territory there.

I glance up in thought for a minute, "Well, something that'll like calm you down. Like a night alone for you and Lisa. And she's going with you on the physics trip, right?"

Michael's eyes lit up, "So, I should do something romantic like a picnic for two or something? Cooking isn't a problem for me, so I can do that. Wow, Logan told me you were a drippin' counsellor. He basically told me to come here, or he'd never let me live my fear of rollercoasters down."

Using a new level of blackmail, are we?

Unorthodox, but impressive.

"Well," I laughed, tapping my pen against my desk. I just remembered I had some records to update. Michael stood up. "…I'm glad I could help."

"Me too. Laura?"

"What's up, Michael?" I wanted to know. His grin grew slightly wider.

"Cool hat…"

I smiled, proudly, "Thanks Michael."

He turned on his heel, and stepped out of my office.

Oh yeah. I have Most Spirited Teacher in the bag for the third time. I'm just amazingly awesome like that.

Sorry about the slight ego trip…

But I'm cool. You guys think so, right? Yeah, thought so.

I can't help but think Michael's going to have an _emotional_ rollercoaster come the end of the semester.

--

_**Week Two: Tuesday**_

Happy Pajama Day!

So, I'm a ball of emotions today. Good ones. Not bad ones.

I got to see Erin again, during the sonogram. The doctor says she's healthy, and getting stronger everyday. I could be delivering a nine pound baby. I really hope not, because then I'd have to deliver via C-section, and frankly I don't want to be cut wide open, and probed when they pull out a screaming baby from my gut.

I can handle pain, sort of. Okay, I can't handle that labour pain, but I'll be so high on epidural and out of it. So it won't matter. I'm also dreading that long needle that'll into my spine.

Yeah, just the thought is making my skin crawl, but I have a happy thought coming in right now. I'm not going to be able to deliver in time for prom, but I'll be in a cute red summer, baby doll dress, and still pregnant. I found matching sparkly flats, although I miss my heels. I'll have to get rid of the dust, once Erin is born.

I'll have to be there a little later, because we have dinner with Gary's parents, about two hours earlier and then he's my date for prom. He's getting me a red corsage and everything, and this truly makes me feel like I'm in high school.

Pigging out on a pint of oreo cookie ice-cream in maternity PJ's (robe included), with my hair in a messy bun, and soft bunny slippers (I drove like that, and got weird looks from other drivers. They're just hating. Whatever) is heaven right now. And the fact that I crushed more Oreo Cookies in the ice-cream, makes it that much more sweeter.

Okay, I have a sweet tooth, but for the next three months, I get to eat what the hell I want, and not care. I'll dance to get rid of the baby weight.

Yeah. I graduated from UCLA, with Psychology and Dance under my belt. Just a little tidbit into my life.

I was in the middle of shovelling another spoonful of oreo cookie ice-cream when James Garrett, stood sheepishly in my office. He's never been in my office before, even though there was that one time, Zoey introduced me to him. Wow, I could see why Zoey had such a hard choice on her hands.

If I was torn over two equally cute, and sweet guys, I'd loose it too.

Thank God, I'm married. And I mean that.

I quickly took my last mouthful of ice-cream, and stuck the silver spoon in the carton. It stood up in the block of ice-cream, and I just knew I'd have to drink it by the time I was done talking to him. At least his PJs were cool.

"Oh, hi James," I greeted, and told him to sit. He did so, and looked like he was completely stressed out, so I plainly told him that. "…James, is there something I can help you with? You look totally stressed out right now. We can talk, so whenever you're ready…"

So, I'm getting the impression that _Zames_ (I'm really into the name combining thing for some reason. I don't know…hormones, maybe) has a bit of turbulence going. All right then.

"I don't know, but I just feel like Zoey is…I don't know…pulling away from me," he finally explained to me, my eyes darting over to the ice-cream occupying the corner of my desk. But work comes first. I was really enjoying that ice-cream. "She's been sorta off lately, and I don't know what else I can do."

I feel for him. I'm not being partial to _Choey_ (damn, I'm doing it again), but I feel bad for James. It's a good guy, but Zoey tells me that she's torn, and doesn't want to hurt anybody. Honestly, if I had two equally sweet and cute guys at my feet, I'd just want to slit my wrists and end it.

I feel that I had to say that, twice.

"James, you know what you can do," I said, with the utmost seriousness. He seemed to perk up. "Give her space. She must under a lot of stress, and it's nothing you did. Trust me. I'm a married, and pregnant woman, and even now, I need to space to think. Just to sort out the things jumbled in my head. That's what she's going through, but you should give her space, and maybe you can talk to her later. You love her, right?"

James seemed to be caught off-guard by my question. He flushed, and visibly paled with his blue eyes slightly widened to illustrate my "off-guard" point.

See? I'm random, but I'm analytical too.

My ice-cream will be drinkable soon. Ugh. See, I told you. Random.

"I think I do…" he admitted, and sighed before nodding. "Yeah, I love her, so I'll give her breathing room…"

Uh, she's confused whether to break your heart and date her best friend, or stay with you, and break Chase's heart. Not that I can tell you that.

But she's confused. Not passed out, buddy.

I smiled brightly, despite the thoughts mentioned above running through my head, "Good, and I suppose you have thinking to do yourself?"

James stood up and nodded, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, "Yeah, I think I do. Thanks. Your advice really helped me."

He and his cool PJs left my office, and I sighed, pushing the ice-cream carton towards me. I looked into the carton, and yes, I was right. My solid block of ice-cream is now in liquid form. Now, I'm hormonal and slightly irritable, but when Dean Rivers walked in, I was not only upset about my ice-cream…or milkshake. Whatever.

But now, I'm confused as to why my boss is here.

I don't really have to discuss my maternity leave.

I don't feel like counting down when I have to leave. Okay, I'm almost 25 weeks pregnant, so?

"Dean Rivers, anything the matter?"

He looks frazzled, and took a seat on the couch, "Laura, I've seen your interaction with the students, and they love you. Regarding, your maternity leave, they'll rebel if you're gone. Not because you're the best guidance counsellor PCA has ever had. The students will attack me."

I'm trying not to smile right now. A student rebellion all for me? Aw, you guys flatter me.

"…Last time, there was an unnecessary waste of lycopene, and I can't have that again," Dean Rivers recalled, and my eyebrows furrowed. I know what he was talking about with that whole censorship deal, but no one told me about the use of tomatoes. Again, trying not to laugh. "Anyway, Laura, I need your advice."

ARE YOU SHITTING ME?!

Okay, Laura. Remember your Lamaze classes. Don't upset the baby's environment.

Don't upset Erin's environment.

I get the honour of listening to a grown man tell me his problems.

Really. I'm bubbling over with so much excitement. I'm so undeserving of it all.

**Insert frustrated, wild banshee, demonic scream here. **

"What can I help advise you on?"

"Well," Dean Rivers began, looking frantic again. "…my wife's spending is out of control! She's running me into so much debt…"

Kill me. Please.

If I weren't pregnant and psyched to be a mom, I'd probably get rope and hang myself off of a tree. Ooh, I see a nice one with lots of branches.

Anyone have a straw for my melted ice-cream, on another random note?

--

_**Week Two: Wednesday**_

It's day three of Spirit Week – the theme? Basically, wear the colours of a PCA Stingray and wear them proudly, so today, I'm in light blue and purple from head and toe.

It's the middle of the week, and strangely enough, I actually listened to _Beautiful Girls_ last night. Sean Kingston has sung one of the happiest suicide notes ever. So, a girl doesn't want to be with him, so because she turns him down, he'll off himself. I get the message of the song.

But the song scares me, because the title is misleading. It's shouldn't be called _Beautiful Girls_. There's NOTHING beautiful about suicide, even though a girl made him sing – and possibly contemplate – about it.

It should be called _A Girl Turned Me Down So I Want To Shank Myself To Death_.

Oh, God. And don't even get me started on music video. It's historically inaccurate, and as a teacher, it appals me, then it causes me to giggle because I'm so appalled. The video is set in the 1950s at a freaking diner!

One word: Segregation. Think about that, folks. Kudos if you get the point I'm trying to make.

So, maybe Sean Kingston should come in here and get some counselling himself, but then again, he shouldn't attempt it. As I said before, the song freaks me out after listening to it more than twice. And maybe I don't want to help Sean Kingston.

But it'll never happen, so I'm hoping some confused individual will walk in, and stop the crazy randomness threatening to take over in my head.

My head is a scary place. Yet, you all find my thoughts hilarious.

All of the sitting was making my ankles cramp, so I stood up, grabbing my handbag. I don't want to smell chicken wings, and ravioli right now, because only one person has that smell.

And her sobbing was so familiar, I had the sound practically implanted in my head. This is what I get for being a good listener. I hear things I don't want to, and don't really care about it. Not that I don't care about Coco, but if I were in "psychologist mode", I would say that Carl and Coco have a toxic relationship.

She's crying, and I know I'm supposed to listen anyway.

I'm supposed to resist the urge to chop off my ears, but all she's doing, is making me crave things. And right now, I want a pickle and peanut butter sandwich with mustard.

And then I'll drive off-campus to get chicken wings.

Sounds gross, but I'm with child.

I looked at my watch and made a sort-of disappointed face, "Ooh, Coco. I wish I could listen, but I really have to go somewhere. All I can say that Carl might be bad for you, if he keeps playing with your heart like this."

"But Laura, he has jealousy issues!" Coco half-yelled, half-sobbed. She shovelled another spoonful of ravioli in her mouth. She said, through her mouthful. "I'm so depressed!"

Or at least that's what I could make out.

Okay, I'm getting out of this, one way or another. Nice. Now, I gotta pee.

I saw Lola Martinez.

My favourite actress (so she helped me make crank calls _one _time) and I know she's annoyed but Coco's antics. I'm not annoyed, but…

I'm annoyed. Fine. I'm not even going to deny it anymore.

"Hi Lola! How are things with Vince?" I greeted, getting the brunette's attention. Lola's really dramatic, and she's my second favourite person to talk to, and work with. I'm sorry, but she's not as complex as Logan. I mean, she has like hidden complexities too, but Logan just has some that I won't even try to decipher yet.

Besides, I'm the one that made Vince Blake all docile, and gentleman-like.

Okay, fine. Other counsellors helped too. Gosh.

"Uh, we're great. You know he's taking me to a restaurant before prom. He won't tell me yet…" she told me, brightly with a smile, then I was almost begging her silently and she got me when she saw Coco sobbing, and shoving more ravioli into her mouth.

"Why won't he marry me?!" the girls DA wailed, and Lola looked at me, smile faltering, but she winked.

"I just don't like surprises, Laura," she told me, faking sadness. "He should know that it just…upsets me. Why do boys do these things?"

Here comes the fake sympathy.

"Oh, well, males think differently than females. Let's walk, and I'll explain. Uh, sorry Coco. Duty calls," I told her, and went in the opposite direction of where Coco was. I couldn't hear Coco sobbing or wailing…or even both. "Thanks Lola…"

Lola shrugged, "Well, I can't use my acting powers for personal gain anymore, so might as well use it some other way. Laura, you coming to prom?"

"Yeah, I may look like the size of a house, but yeah, I'm going in red," I told her, and felt Erin kick under my hand. "Okay, I'm hungry, so I'm going to grab a bite to eat. Talk to you later."

"Later Laura…" she said, leaving and I heard her mutter something about a lost dollar and a Doodle Cake.

Okay, then…

Now, there's a pickle and peanut butter sandwich with mustard calling me.

--

_**Week Two: Thursday**_

Today, there's really no theme, but I'm ready to sweep Most Spirited Teacher for a fourth time. It won't be shattering to me if I don't win. I've already done it three years, in a row. And I remembered that I need more silver polish. So, I'm in a good mood right now, and not even Mark Del Figgalo could kill my buzz.

I seriously had to resist the urge to begin singing childishly, "Logan stole your girl. Logan stole your girl. Logan stole your girl…"

And then I realized I was a twenty-eight year old woman, and I couldn't do the butterfly because of the little person inside of me. I dropped the book I was reading, placing a bookmark between the pages I stopped reading.

I actually started reading _Pride & Prejudice_, because in high school, I used the pop-up book with pictures. That was the only way the book didn't absolutely bore me to tears.

But even with all with talking, the characters do, and the strange words, I like it.

"Hey Mark…" I said to him, and I wasn't sure what the hell he was feeling right now. Maybe he really didn't need guidance counselling after all, and just wandered into the wrong place.

"Are you Laura?" he asked me in monotone. Quinn Pensky, you have amazing resilience. Seriously, I'm applauding you in my head because she dated this for two years? It was highly unorthodox for me to even think something like that but now I'm just overly confused.

I nodded, "Yeah, I'm Laura. What do you need help with?"

A lot of things, sadly. Again, highly unorthodox.

I have to interact with _everyone_.

Yes, even the ones that have the potential to put me to sleep. He plopped himself on my couch. If I could count, every kid that has sat there, I'd be a very rich woman, and still be a cool school guidance counsellor/psychologist. I absent-mindedly drummed my nails against the wooden desk in front of me.

"Brooke stood me up on our date…" he told me in that monotonous tone. Was he sad about it? Was that indifference?

Come on, Defiggalo! I need emotion. Give me something to work with here!

This day was officially worse than Tuesday. Sure, I was going to help him because it was my job, and I have a conscience.

The only upside was that I got a message that I did, in fact, win Most Spirited and Favourite Teacher for a fourth time.

I was serious about Mark not be able to kill my buzz.

Yeah, he totally assassinated it. What a downer.

I'm not depressed, but my buzz has been assassinated.

Unless that shiny trophy is brought and cheers me up.

--

_**Week Two: Friday**_

I have survived one of the craziest weeks, and trust me, when I see that I've seen crazier weeks. It's Friday, meaning Logan has to stop by, and talk to me. Well, he doesn't have to but he does anyway. I think it's just a subconscious thing. He came all right, with Quinn in tow, so what a way to end the week.

With PCA's closet couple – Quogan – arguing over dates. They're better than cable, but I know I'll have to stop it sooner or later.

"How could you ask out Michelle Campbell on a date? You know how pretty she is!"

"Well, if she's pretty, you're_ beautiful_!" Logan countered back, as Quinn crossed her arms, and huffed. Ooh, she is PISSED. How are you going to ever worm your way out of this one, Logan? "And _she_ asked _me_, not the other way around, Quinn…"

"Okay, fine. You're not going alone, then," she retorted, with a challenging look in her face. Ooh, I know where she's going with this. Seriously. That's pretty slick. Logan scoffed, and rolled his eyes.

"What are you going to do? Handcuffs our wrists together, so I'm not with Michelle?"

"Better!" Quinn replied, and a smile grew on her face. "We'll double date with you and Michelle."

"We? Who's _we_?" Logan questioned, darkly. Look at him acting jealous. But I'm just chill today. Maybe, it's because it's the weekend and I'm in hibernate mode tomorrow.

"Carter Forrester…"

"That loser?" Logan asked, in shock and anger. "You're joking, right?"

"It was side-splitting, and full of hilarity when Michelle Campbell decided to ask _my_ boyfriend on a date!" Quinn yelled, and whispered at the same time. Logan had a deadpanned expression on his face. These guys are cute. Again, my head is a very scary place. It's like a twisted pleasure from watching them go at each other.

Quinn has changed Logan, though, and they're happy as a couple. It's just out there, and how people will take it that they're afraid of.

"Ooh, and I give Carter permission absolutely wine and dine _my_ woman!"

Okay, time to stop the entertainment right now.

"Okay, okay. Everyone chill," I said, cutting in. I pointed to Quinn, and looked at Logan. "Now, agree with what's she's saying, and before you say anything, just listen. Are you ready to let all of PCA know that you're a couple?"

Logan and Quinn both visibly softened towards each other, and answered with a mutual, "No."

Damn, this was a doozy.

"Okay," I said, sighing and rubbing my temples slightly. "…I like her idea because you can still be together, not together, you know. Can we try to make this work?"

"I guess," Quinn agreed and sighed, pushing her glasses up to her nose. "But she tries anything, and she's getting a photon canon laser in the butt! She won't go out with anyone after that…"

I raised an eyebrow, "Logan…"

Now, that was my 'comply or be in the biggest shit' voice.

"Okay, okay… I want to make this work too. But Forrester tries to make a move, and I won't be responsible for anything that goes down after that. A little fist to lip action, but it's up in the air."

I sighed, and rolled my own eyes. Well, I got him to listen. That's good enough.

"Wait, you think I'm beautiful?" Quinn questioned him, a smile taking over her face. This time it was one of those 'aww-I-can't-believe-you-called-me-that' ones. "You've never called me that before…"

Logan smiled at her, "Only telling the truth, babe."

"You guys are going to set my hormones off," I told him, jokingly. "Have a nice weekend, you crazy lovebirds…"

"You too," Quinn said, as Logan pressed a kiss to her cheek. She grabbed his hand, and they literally ran out of my office. I tried to pretend I didn't hear Quinn giggling. This weekend was over. Finally. Yes, it was.

Well, and then I got a romantic surprise of my own. My husband, Gary, walked in just when I was slinging my bag over my shoulder. He kissed me, on the lips gently, and although I returned it, I was confused.

"Not that I'm happy to you, but aren't you supposed to be at the office?"

Gary smirked, teasingly, "Well, I wanted to see my totally sexy wife, and why would I worry about an office, I just happen to run. I could go whenever I please…"

My eyes widened to saucers. He got…promoted? No way! No effing way!

"Aw, congrats!" I said, happily, and kissed him. He pulled away, and grabbed my hand. He walked across campus to the parking lot with me, twirling the car keys on his index finger.

"So, in celebration, we're going to dinner. Just me and you…"

Yep, this weekend was going to be worthwhile now.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, this chapter was so long. So, make your reviews long. I'm in the mood for well-thought out ones. Which part did you like the most? You know, the works and stuff. There's your long update. You'll love Laura more now. Lol. **

**Review. They're like crack to me, haha. Gotta run for lunch. **

**-Erika **


	3. Week Three

**A/N: Your reviews are causing me to shoot out inspiration left and right. Thank you! There will be tension in the staff room in the chapter. So read on. I also have a twist planned, hehe. And it'll be revealed in this chapter. **

**Disclaimer: When hell freezes over.**

* * *

**Guidance**

**Week Three**

* * *

_**Week Three: Monday**_

I'd just like to start by saying that I hate Mondays, and that I hope the sadistic bastard that found it humorous to coin them has passed on. If he hasn't, then I'd like to run the guy over with an eighteen wheeler. I especially can't stand the third Monday of every month. From a student perspective, they get to sleep in, while we staff people, are trapped in the staff lounge.

I've disliked Mondays ever since I found out what the meaning of homework and detention (I have a bit of a rebellious past, okay?) was. Being the guidance counsellor made it worse. Don't get me wrong. I love this job, and I couldn't have asked for anything better. It just makes me feel better that I can be encouraging, and leave my mark on these students.

But then there's that one Monday, this one, make us higher school teachers make us wish we were vacationing somewhere in Fiji. Well, that's what I'm thinking. I'm also thinking that I'd like to wear a bikini again.

I walked into the lounge; still kind of irritated that gas prices had decided to go up.

"Morning, David…" I greeted, brightly, or tried to be bright when I'm clearly wasn't. Stupid gas prices. I hate that fucking inflation system! By David, I meant Mr. Bender. We met on my first day here, and we've been friends ever since. I actually went baby shopping with his wife, Linda yesterday.

Their son, Keegan, is so adorable even though he likes to put things in his mouth. Preferably footwear. He smiled, sitting next to me with a mug of coffee in his hand. I so hate him right now. Honestly, I miss the caffeine even though it makes me bounce off the walls, but at least strawberries and whipped cream aren't caffeinated because I've been having an intense craving for some. Notice I said strawberries, and not ice-cream.

For reasons why, please refer to last week. Ugh.

I straightened out my yellow sundress, and today I have yellow, black, and gold flats. I don't know what it is, but I've been on a flats binge. I think I have almost every colour.

"How's my favourite mom-to-be?"

"Completely drained, and just counting down. It feels like I've been pregnant forever, when tomorrow marks my 26th week…"

Twelve more weeks to go. Since a regular pregnancy lasts 38, right?

Yep. My math is correct.

More of my colleagues walked in. Mr. Hurley – well Jeffery to me – walked in (turns out Michael was the last one to get off of the _Spine Buster_, because he rode it like six times. Apparently, hanging Logan by his legs, and shooting spit balls at him worked too).

Mrs. Sullivan (Heather), Ms. Gariano (Dianne) walked in. Dianne was single but she was young just like me. And then Mrs. Bromwell (Rhonda) walked in. I guess that was all of us for today, sans Coco, but that was seriously no surprise.

Then Dean Rivers walked in.

"Dean Rivers," I called, and got everyone's attention. Why? Because I run shit! Okay, maybe I don't. Just thought it would be fun to use that phrase. Ha. "Uh, who called this meeting because even though you usually do, I'm confused. With all due respect, my first appointment needs to be prepared for…"

No, it doesn't because it's just Quinn. And I'm cool with Quinn, and the fact that she has AP Biology always helps because she's usually finished all of her work, and then she's out early. She said she had to come see me this morning. Frankly, I'm dying to know how the whole Michelle/Logan/Quinn/Carter affair went down. Knowing Logan and his jealousy issues, it just makes me even more curious.

I don't have to be prepared for anything, but I will bullshit my way out of here if I have to.

"No, he didn't call for this meeting. I did…"

And I knew my day would be filled with complete suckage.

Suckage to the max, only because I can imagine her calling some flimsy little meeting just to prove we've been incompetent.

This, people, is the dreaded English teacher. I can't stand Eleanor McClure, much less be in the same room as her. I'm just trying to be chill right now. I'm seriously not going to let her trip me out, because Erin feels what I feel. The last thing I want her to feel is my stress.

"And Dean Rivers let you go along with it?" Heather questioned, her dark eyes flickering over to our boss. Actually all eyes, including mine, did that. I don't know what voodoo shit she pulled, but then again, it's Dean Rivers. He tries to be assertive, but I don't exactly think playing with a Cheesy Bake Oven makes you assertive.

The man still plays with Tiddly Winks.

It's pretty messed up when you walk by his closed door and hear, "Why won't you go in already? It's so hard. I wish it'd just go into the hole, over and over again…"

Hey!

Don't judge me.

You would have been thinking the same thing if you were in my position.

Exactly. Another example of Human Nature put into play, so there!

Captain Tiddly – er, Dean Rivers is speaking again. Look at her. Sitting there all high and mighty and honestly, I've had it up to here. I'm telling you. It's all the work of her witchcraft.

"Yes, because we're all faculty, or part of it, so Eleanor had some concerns, particularly over the English Department…"

Dean say what?

I heard David nearly choke on his coffee. He threw a look at me as if to say _what the hell_.

I'm calm. I'm cool. I'm chill.

I'm below freezing!

I really just want to see where this goes before I have to play superhero and put a stop to it with my powers of awesomeness. All she's missing is the hat, the bubbling cauldron with identified goo and the broom she somehow flies on.

God knows she has the crazy cackle to go with it.

"And would you like to tell me what's wrong with the way I'm running the department?" David asked. He's a sweet guy, but I almost saw his eyes flame up with anger. It was really discrete but it was there. He laughed, almost sarcastically. "…because I clearly don't. The students are learning, and I'm sorry if you're not into fun. But I am, and it's helping them thrive."

"Now, David. I'm English, you're Media, which would make you more fitting to run the department. But we should help each other," she said, with a smile that was obviously fake. There's no way I'm going to get angry.

Absolutely not. Because a) I hate liars and phonies and b) she's not worth my time. At the end of the day, it's just me.

"Complete bullshit, Laura…" Heather whispered to me. I smiled, because it was so true.

"What kind of help are you talking about Eleanor?" Dianne, the biology teacher, asked with a raised brow.

"Just the kind that will allow the students to really prepare for the future, and onward. The curriculum needs to be changed drastically. The lessons already are not at the level they should be and – "

And I'll be putting my foot down… now. My toes are somewhat bigger, but still, I'm stepping in.

Stress them out, so that they're all bunch of psychological messes when I talk to them. You see how she's out to get me? I swear, I'm not being paranoid.

She's just out to make my life difficult.

"I don't buy that. Not for a minute. Prom is coming up, and it's a time for them to reward themselves not go on some regimen of 'preparation'," I said, standing up. My belly protruded, and as angry I wanted to be, I couldn't. I was strangely calm about it, and I couldn't grow angry.

"Strangely, I agree with her," Rhonda replied, a contemplative look on her face.

All those times, I repeatedly said, I was chill, I was saying that so I could believe it.

In some freaky twist, I've been placed in my happy place, which prohibits me from satisfying the urge to pretty much choke the woman. And trust me, I have a lot of happy places.

"But there's a time for play, and business…"

"I understand that," I replied, holding up a hand. "I've been there. We all have. I've wanted to party instead of doing that major term paper. You can't be serious all the time. You've been teaching before I was born. Hell, even probably before that, but they're only kids. When the time comes, then we can get all college crazy, but let them have their fun. Dean Rivers, may I please be excused? I have my first appointment, and I want to be prepared."

No, I don't. I just want to get the hell out of here. I don't have claustrophobia, and I don't want to prone to it either.

"And I have a _field trip_ to organize…" David said, following my lead. Ha.

I could see Eleanor quietly scoff, and the discreet glare she was sending our way.

Four words, okay? Dust. Off. My. Shoulder.

"We're going to go through talks about the curriculum for the 2008-2009 year, but it's still up in the air. There's nothing to cover as of right now. You all can go now…"

I walked out, feeling her glare on the back of my head. I returned it with a 'friendly' smile, and I know it just made her even madder.

Now that I've tried that nice approach, I'll do it more often, knowing it annoys her senseless.

Check. Fucking. Mate.

The smile doesn't leave my face, despite the inflation system I so despise.

--

_**Week Three: Tuesday**_

"_You slapped him?" I questioned, clarifying what I had just heard just come out her mouth. I was still in that victorious mood from the morning, by the way. Quinn Pensky sighed quietly, pushing the bridge of her glasses on her nose. Her long wavy hair was put in two low pigtails. It was cute, especially with the blue off-the-shoulder-top she was wearing. _

_But Quinn slapped Carter Forrester? _

"_Yes, Laura. I slapped him. He tried to cross boundaries, and I had to let it be known to him that it was a 'friendly date' and that nothing could come from it," she told me, and her cheeks became rosy, as she looked at me. A small smile touched her lips, and it made me smile too. See? Smiles were contagious too. "I've twisted this into every sense of logic to analyze what I feel towards Logan. There was none, until I realized something this morning when he saw me this morning and his face lit up, even though none of our friends saw it. It made me feel like there was zero gravity. I dated Mark for two years, and I didn't even get that with him…" _

_I was truly amazed, and I caught a glance at the wedding ring on my finger. I know what feeling she's feeling. I feel that everyday for Gary, and everyday, it grows for Erin. _

"_I've been able to accept his quirks, and we're so different like…hydrogen and argon…yet, we click and we're so much in tune, it's frightening. But it's the good kind of adrenaline." _

_Okay, I was completely hopeless at chemistry, but hydrogen and argon are on different sides of the periodic table. I'm not that hopeless. _

"_Quinn, I think it's safe to say that you love Logan…"_

_The blush in her cheeks only deepened when she nodded, and grinned, "Yeah. I do."_

Love is really a game, as overused and horribly cliché that may sound. The only time I hate that, when everyone has the potential to fail. It's terrible on both ends. One person has the power to shatter and damage someone else. And even though it may be for the best, it still sucks on both ends. The worst part for me would have to be the confusion and that many questions that you'd have to ponder afterwards.

A knock brought me out of my little commentary, and before I end this commentary to tend to the quite shy-looking girl lingering in my doorway, I'll end by saying that if I hear _Lollipop _one more time, I'll shank someone.

Seriously, how many innuendoes can you cram in one song?!

_Call me so I can get it juicy for ya… _Yes, just what we need to hear. More junk about we like to lick wrappers and we "hit it like we just can't miss".

Makes me shudder, actually.

"Hi. Um, can I come in? I've only been to PCA for a short while. I forgot I was supposed to make an appointment. I'm sorry," the girl said, with a nervous laugh, and her cheeks turned pink. Her dark brunette hair was long and straight and she had hazel eyes. She was short, but pretty. Like ridiculously pretty.

"No, no. It's fine," I said, and motioned her in. I stood up, and offered her my hand. "I'm Laura Whitman. But I really don't like formalities, so just call me Laura. Everyone else does, so it's okay. Have a seat."

"Thank you," she said, and sat on my couch, and she took a lollipop – er, candy, out of the bowl sitting on the corner of my desk and popped it in her mouth.

Making myself comfortable, the way a 26 week pregnant woman could, I rested my chin in my hands, and looked at her, "I understand you're new, but I really haven't seen you around campus. What's your name?"

"Sienna. Sienna Carmichael…"

So this was the girl Dustin was crushing on? Okay, then. The boy had good taste.

"Meet to meet you, Sienna. So, what can I help you with? I want you to feel safe, and anything you tell me won't leave this room," I assured. "The only people that would know is me, you…and possibly the walls."

She smiled and let out a small giggle, "That's funny. The thing about the walls, I mean."

Another person that says I'm funny. A lot of people say that. To be honest, I was about to be a comedian, instead. I was voted Class Clown in high school.

"Thanks…"

She sighed, and looked at her bracelets, before speaking, "I guess, I'm just confused. I was having trouble adjusting to boarding school because I'd never done it before. Then I walked into math, and I was getting algebra. This really nice boy offered to help me – Dustin Brooks – and soon we were hanging out outside of math class too. A lot. I've never even been kissed by a boy before, much less be this close to one…"

Well, I didn't get my first kiss until I was fifteen, and it was the worst. His name was Kevin Powell. It was sucking a wet mop. Can someone say nauseating?

"So, how do you feel about the whole thing?"

He wants to ask you out! He wants to be your boyfriend! It's so painfully obvious! GAHH!

Okay, internal spazzing is over.

Sienna shrugged, slightly, "I feel a lot of things. Sometimes, I feel like I just want to be friends, because he might not even think of me like that. And other times, he's just so funny, and sweet that maybe he might be boyfriend material. Then I'm scared because I know this school is notorious for its relationship," she cleared her throat awkwardly. "…issues."

Oh honey, you have no idea.

Dean Rivers really isn't aware of the dramatics that go on at his school, but he's the one that signs my paycheck. So whatever.

"Not only that, but just in general, I'm having trouble adjusting, and make other friends. As you saw, I'm painfully quiet as a mouse when meeting new people, and I can't open to new people that quickly…"

And as pretty as you are, you contradict yourself.

"You opened up to me, though," I pointed out, with a smile. "Sienna, you have the potential to go places and have an influence. Go out there, and make friends, have fun, and don't regret it. I mean, the constructive kind of fun. You can do it, and you have any trouble at all, my door's always open. In other words, I'm saying: let loose, girl!"

Sienna grinned, her hazel eyes (I swear, they look like my cat's!) twinkling behind her smile. She stood up, and slung her bag over her shoulder, "Thanks so much, Laura. I guess I'd better head to Dustin's dorm and tell him that I'll go on that dinner date with him Friday night."

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.

Hold the Blackberry, Motorola, AND Nokia!

"He asked you out?"

"Yeah," Sienna answered, with a nod. "…but I told him that I'd think about it. Your advice helped me make my decision so thanks."

She walked out my office, closing it with a click.

In the silence of my office, I did one thing, "SCORE!"

--

_**Week Three: Wednesday**_

Today is just one of those days. Everything is the same at Pacific Coast Academy, and Eleanor is still wishing death on me. Boo-hoo. It took Zoey Brooks another two weeks to step into my office, and frankly I was just concerned now. She looks like she hadn't slept in days. Her hair was messy, and her face was blank. Her skin was unbelievably pale. Basically, what I looked like when I found out I was pregnant, and spent a whole week and a half stressing about it.

She yawned, and plopped onto my couch, handing me a sheet of paper. I moved, and sat next to her. If she needed sleep here, I was going to let her because frankly not only was I concerned about her state of mind, I was worried about her physical state.

See how smart I was. It was smart for me to make this office all lounge-like and homey, instead of a death trap.

I'm just smart. Worried at the moment, but just pretty smart.

"Haven't slept in four days. It took me four nights of lost sleep to think of that," she told me, in that sleepy tone of hers. Her eyes were near closing, as her body lay down on the couch. I took sheet of paper, and it was folded in fourths.

I opened it, my emailing really not mattering to me anymore.

_James_

_He's my boyfriend. He's actually my boyfriend, Laura. _

He sort of came and told me he loved you. So, I think we've established that fact. Her breathing became slow and rhythmic, and I was going to cry.

I was relieved that she was finally getting some sleep, but I knew she was bound to burn out. Zoey keeps trying to be the Wonder Girl, and then something like this tells her she's not. There's a dose of reality, and like the horrible cough medicine, my mother tried to poison me and my three older brothers with, it's bitter.

What a fucked world we live in. Seriously.

_I don't know what started this. Actually, I do. _

_Bitter Logan and his stupid rumour about me and James being a couple._

_I was only being nice to him, and volunteered to show him around. He was just so nice, and so down-to-earth, and I found myself falling for him. Later that night after we got revenge on Logan, we actually went out for pizza and were laughing and joking around about the dangers of deep dish pizzas. _

_And before I could walk away, I was kissing him. Or he was kissing me. I wasn't sure, and we were a couple from then on. He's a good guy, and he does sweet little gestures that make me want to love him. I'm grateful and appreciative of everything he does, but I desperately wanted to feel something when he kissed me. _

_I wanted to feel comfort in his hugs, but it's alarming because I realized that I didn't love James the way I was supposed to. _

_I love James, but I'm not in love with him. _

_It makes me hate myself because I know he doesn't deserve to be led on._

_I'm the definition of confusion._

"Oh, Zoey…" I sighed, running a hand through my light brunette hair.

I want to know what she wrote about Chase, but on the other hand, I feel dirty reading it. Ah, well. I'll just shower when I get home.

I pulled out a drawer, and spread out the blanket before I covered Zoey with the blanket.

_Chase _

_I don't know what I can say about him. There's a lot I can say, but I don't know what to say first. So, I guess I'll write this in list form. _

_10. He's the goofiest, silliest person, but his heart is in the right place. He makes feel like I can be silly and random too. _

Random is the new cool. Duh…

_9. His word and his opinions matter the most to me. I don't care what people think of me, but Chase's advice matters because I know he can give the greatest advice. _

That struck a chord in me.

Just for reasons that are known to myself. And I promise, I'll share, but just…not now.

_8. It's like we share one mind, one brain. Sometimes, he'll call me when I actually wanted to call him first. I'd almost be in the middle of dialling his number, and my phone would start vibrating. It's happened way too many times. Or he'll just know how I feel by looking at me. Quinn says, we've developed some kind of telepathy. Lola says it's cute, but freaky. _

_7. I haven't been able to look at grapes the same again – especially, green ones. _

_6. I know my friends think I've forgotten about Chase, because I'm dating James. But that's just it. I'm thinking about Chase all the time, and I don't know what to do. I'm at a crossroad._

_5. Without the bush of hair around, it doesn't feel right. Michael helped me realize that when me, him, and Lola were out one day just talking about how we missed Chase. Then James came by, and kissed me to say hello. _

_4. Chase isn't a crier, but on his birthday when his grandmother died, he let me see how vulnerable he could really be. _

My stomach fell to my toes, and I had to take a deep breath. I wasn't going to cry. Not again.

Oh God, not again. I'm okay, really. I'm fine.

_3. As soon as I saw him crash into the flagpole way back in eighth grade, and I helped him up, I knew my life would change. And it did, for the better. _

_2. He practiced dancing for a day straight. I don't think anyone has ever done that for me, and ever will. _

_1. James isn't Chase. And I'm in love with Chase. _

I know I'm not going to any sleep tonight.

I'm going to be robbed of my sleeping, even though I know I have to, but how can I with all of this weighing on my conscience?

You wouldn't be able to sleep either.

How does this affect me? I'll tell you…eventually.

--

_**Week Three: Thursday**_

I'm absolutely irritated. I know I shouldn't be. I should be my mellow self, random, but I'm not even close. I care, I really do, but with my lack of sleep (I don't see six hours as a proper sleep cycle – I see it as a national crime). I still managed to drag myself into work, mainly because Gary, being the sweetheart he is, wants to make sure both Erin and I are okay.

He wanted to drive, because he felt that I wasn't emotionally balanced to drive, and that my hormones were out of whack or something. If I can drive by every gas station on my way to PCA without cursing and screaming every obscenity in the book, then that's as stable as I'll go.

My only consolation is that I didn't have to pinch myself when I heard it was Thursday. I would have loosened up more it was Friday. I could probably rejoice in the fact that I can finally get the pedicure I want, because I think I'm getting foot fungus, and if I am, then…ew!

But I just to want to eat more cookie dough ice cream, and channel surf even though I'll probably give myself a seizure if I do it fast enough. I want to sit outside, and check my horoscope, even though I think they're all fraudulent bastards and they're killing trees to give the public their predictions.

Full. Of. Shit.

Birthday? January 25, 1980.

"_She's gone, Laura. She went away peacefully," my brother Ron told me over the phone. We're only about three years apart so we're the closest out of the four of us. I gripped the phone tightly in my hands, feeling my heart beat against my ribcage. Nothing made sense to me. What did he mean gone? I just talked to her yesterday. I told her I was going cake shopping, and that I loved her. I wished her a happy birthday, and told her to feel better. _

_I'm really confused. Did my mother just…die? How in the hell does the flu kill someone? Don't they have vaccines for that?! _

_What kind of healthcare system is Bush fucking running?!_

_My head felt like lead, and my heart fell out of my chest. _

"_Mom's gone, and she's not coming back…" _

"_What do you mean gone, Ron? Gone on a trip? Gone to bed? What do you mean gone?" I questioned, starting to get frantic. Today was a happy occasion with a double birthday to celebrate. Just when I felt the tears fall down my face, the raindrops fell and streaked my window. _

"_I mean, dead," was all it took for the phone to slip from my hands, and grab my keys, dashing out the door. I had to make the trip to Pacific Coast Academy, and it wasn't work-related at all, despite the fact that I was slightly damp from the rain that continued to fall against my car when I sped down the California freeway. _

_But that made the trip all the urgent._

"Laura? Anyone home?"

Okay, there's a manicured hand dangling in front of me. I looked at who the owner of the hand belonged to, and plastered a smile on my face when I realized it was Lola Martinez. I was going to have to lie, and actually tend to her problem, pushing away mine.

My hand absent-mindedly found its way to my growing belly, and a thump was felt under my hand. That made me see that maybe the world wasn't all bad, and that I was going to be the best mother ever.

"You looked like you were miles away. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," I lied. Everyone lies. You lie. Everyday, the government lies. End of explanation. I shifted in my chair, determined to be attentive. "So Lola, what's your deal?"

"Well, Vince called me yesterday, and told me that Zoey was sound asleep when he carried her out of here, and Quinn and I found her in bed," she explained, and nervously bit her lip. In her eyes shone so much worry. Zoey had great friends, seriously. Lola's voice sounded on the brink of tears, and I offered a Kleenex to her. She dabbed at her eyes, muttering a small thanks, and she quietly sniffled. "I'm just worried about her, and she won't say anything to us. We know she finally realized she misses Chase. We all do, but all we want to do is to be there doe her, and she keeps pushing us away. I don't know whether I should just say, 'screw it' and give up. But Zoey's my friend, and I know deep down I can't just not care. I'm so confused. What should I do?"

Of course you're going to get resistance. She just realized she was in love with the boy!

And I'm not just saying because he's my nephew – by blood.

Longest Thursday of my life, here I come.

--

_**Week Three: Friday **_

"So, how'd your date with Michelle go?"

"Completely wished I had chopped my ears off. Considering Lola pulled a Mike Tyson on my ear, that's saying a lot. She wouldn't shut up and I was about to just loose it, but I was looking at Quinn the entire time, so I was okay, just barely, but I was managed not to go insane. It always helps that she was zapping Michelle the entire date. Then I heard Carter tried to get all touchy-feely with Quinn, after basketball practice, so I decked him…"

I'm feeling a lot better from yesterday, partly because I was talking with Logan. He was required to this time. Anger management for the second time, and he has to come talk to me again. So, we're back to square one.

"Logan, you have jealousy problems…"

"He was gloating about it!" he defended, frowning deeply. "I swear, I was counting to ten, and doing all of that breathing crap. When he started gloating and laughing on how he "almost scored" with Quinn, he went to high-five me, I lost it. I didn't leave him hanging at all, though. I punched him in mouth – and everywhere else, Laura."

"How long do you have to go for anger management class since you, you know," and I laughed a little by adding. "…relapsed."

"Three times a week, for a month," he answered, rolling his eyes. He sighed, visibly and closed his eyes briefly, running a hand through his hair. "I know Quinn can protect herself, but I just feel like I have to protect her from everything and anything. I'm trying. It's scary because I don't see any other girl the way I used to. Hell, even making out with Mandy Franklin would have been fun before Quinn. Now, it's gross because she kisses anything."

Coughcoldsorecough.

I felt a smile break out on my face, because I had this talk with Quinn on Tuesday, "Logan, repeat after me: I love Quinn."

"Huh?"

"Say it, you'll feel better. Now, say it like you mean it," I encouraged. He looked at me, and then looked away because I think he realized it was true. "If you feel the need to protect her, and you just want to be with her, then tell me how you feel about her."

"Are you serious?"

"Um, yeah…" I answered, like it was obvious. Maybe because it was.

Three.

Two.

One.

"I love Quinn," he said, and I think he was just trying it out to try it out, and then he really smiled after a couple moments of silence, saying them again. "I love Quinn. Oh my God, I just realized I love someone more than myself. I don't know but it…just clicked."

He smiled, standing up, and slung a strap of his backpack over his shoulder. Today was actually one of the days where he wasn't wearing a muscle shirt.

"Have I told you that you rock lately?"

"No, but I like hearing it again," I replied, taking a sip of my smoothie. Mmm, strawberry.

"You rock, Laura," and he was out of my office, no doubtedly out to meet his new-found love. Secretly, that is.

I let out a sigh of just complete relief, even though I knew it would only be temporary.

Goddammit, I need more smoothie!

--

**A/N: Ooh, so now you know why Laura's an important character. This chapter was as humorous as it was dramatic. That's why the story is Humor/Drama, right? I always have to have the little bit of Quogan at the end – because Logan sees Laura EVERY Friday. Lol. How will the gang react when they know Laura is actually Chase's biological aunt? Review and find out. I already have 10 percent of ch. 4 done. We're at the half way mark, people! Yay!**

**And I might put a little Chase in the next chapter. I'm trying to stick as close to the show as I can. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Eleven pages of reading. **

**Review!**

**-Erika **


	4. Week Four

**A/N: CAMP ROCK WAS AWESOME! Even after watching it for the fifth time.**

**Aside from that, I'll be getting a new laptop, so I'll churning out chapters for all my stuff. Awesome or what? There will be a lot of flashbacks here.**

**Disclaimer: Nope.**

* * *

**Guidance**

**Week Four**

* * *

_**Week Four: Monday**_

_The only sane thing for me to do was laugh at what he just told me. I don't know if the food is laced with drugs, or if one of Quinn's inventions went bad, and that was the side effect, but damn. Of all the crazy things, I'm sure he's capable of, this was the craziest. It was even too nuts for me to wrap my head around, and it's me you're talking about here. Ask anyone I grew up with, and the ones that know me well enough and they'll tell you I'm the embodiment of crazy and irrational. _

_But since when is playing tag across the Atlantic normal? And Steven and Karen (oldest brother and sister-in-law – you know, just to clarify) actually authorized this. My laughter subsided, and he looked at me like I had just wounded him. Hey, I think he got off easy. I was going to yell at him, and I laughed, so tough._

"_Are you sure they weren't out of it when they said you could fly to England?" _

_Because if it were me, I'd have to be pretty damn stoned before I let my teenage son go to England for a whole school semester. Then again, Steve's the oldest. Ooh, big lawyer man. _

"_Yeah, I'm pretty sure, and you know Robyn asked me the same thing…" _

_Robyn's his fifteen year old sister, but don't let her shortness fool you. She's actually pretty smart than most adults, and the voice of reason. She's a dancer, just like me. _

_Fun tidbit: I was in a dance crew when I was younger called __**Fatality**__. Trust me. We studied, and stuff but every Friday night on Boston's streets, we battled other crews. It was something constructive since I developed into a tomboy, and got into fights all the time. I did that right through junior high at twelve and actually put dance on hold when I got into UCLA, at eighteen. I met the insanely cute first-year engineering student I'm married to right now._

_Steve moved his family to California around the same time I was going to school there. My parents stayed in Boston, though until I was about twenty, because they wanted to be closer to us. Steve and Karen didn't believe in day care. My other brothers, Ronald and Phil are still in Boston, married and parents. _

_So Chase and Robyn were born in Boston, but raised in California. Understand? _

_My roommate in college turned out to be one of the dance crew members I was telling you about. Leah. My best friend since we were about ten. Turns out everyone from __**Fatality**__ moved out here for one reason or the other. So, I still talk to everyone. Most of us are married, engaged, or parents. _

_Even now, I still teach hip hop dance on weekends, and still talk to everyone. Now, everyone in my old crew has a relative in that same dance crew, so I'm first generation, and Robyn is second. _

_How Chase grew up with no rhythm is beyond me. I love the boy. Don't get me wrong, but he came from a family of dancers, so yeah. Well, dancers and musicians, and he's a guitarist and a pianist, so it works._

_Let's go back to this new crazy Indiana Jones style stunt he's trying to pull, shall we?_

_Yet, I understood because love made you do the craziest things, and when you're in love with someone that deep, it doesn't really matter. _

_There's a disadvantage for me here, because I have to split myself into two people: Aunt Laura, and then Laura the Guidance Counsellor. _

"_Chase, do you want to know how I feel?" I questioned, and he looked apprehensive, but sighed and nodded. _

"_As my aunt or guidance counsellor?" _

_You see what I said? _

_That's it. I just freaking psychic like that. _

"_Well," I sighed, looking him in the eyes. "…the guidance counsellor in me thinks you're deranged. She's not supposed to, but she does…" He frowned a little at this. "The aunt in me wants to call your parents and have Robyn scold them for pulling a dumb move. I love you, and I don't want you to go anymore into your depressed phase, so if you love Zoey, the way I know you do, then go do what you have to do." _

_He smiled, and hugged me. I hugged back, ruffling his bush of hair. _

"_Did I mention how crazy you were?" I said, still hugging him before pulling away. I was only eleven or twelve when Chase was born. The day before my mom's birthday, Karen's water broke, and on the morning of her birthday, guess who made an entrance? _

_Yup. _

_The affectionately crazy nut job that is Chase Matthews._

"_Aw, shucks," he laughed. "…and you ruined a family moment. I'll miss that." _

"_I'll miss you too, kiddo…" _

I thought a lot over the weekend how my family changed after my mother died, and to die on the day, she was born was just so eerie. I'm her only daughter, so it was something that hit me hard. I mean, the week before I was at her house, laughing with her.

And the following week, I was heading to my parent's house to console my dad, because he was just so heartbroken. We had no idea she was sick with severe pneumonia. She told everyone it was the flu, so we wouldn't worry, and my dad took care of her.

I was numb the entire time, telling myself that I wasn't going to cry, so I didn't. I didn't shed one tear during the funeral, I breezed through my eulogy even though I had an open casket in front of me, and my mother's body in it.

But that's okay because it didn't really hit me until we had to fly to Boston for her burial. I guess because the burial meant it was final. It was over, and I wasn't going to see my mom ever again. It's ironic because it rained the day she died, and it rained now.

She's in a better place on the other side.

I hang out with my dad all the time, almost everyday. He's ecstatic that he's going to be a grandfather again. Chase has the closest resemblance to him. That wasn't realized until a family reunion a couple summers ago.

Just look at Chase right now, and add on about fifty years.

My dad has no means of slowing down, though. He's pretty strong, and healthy at nearly seventy.

The phone rang, but it wasn't the office line. I recognized the ringtone, and I'm sure you probably will too.

"I'm steppin' into the lava, and I'm tryin' to keep from going under. Baby, who turned the temperature hotter, 'Cause I'm burnin' up. Burnin' up for you – "

Okay, I like the Jonas Brothers. Does that make me a pedophile?

But I only went to their concert like, two times. Okay, fine. I confess, I went six times, okay? And I got an autograph from all three, but I made Robyn come along just for kicks.

"_Aunt Laura, I don't even like the Jonas Brothers. I mean, I think Nick is adorable, and Joe would be perfect husband material. Kevin would be the coolest best friend…" Robyn told me, and then drifted off. She caught my sceptical look, and shook her head. _

"_You just contradicted yourself," I pointed out, dryly, driving when the light turned green._

"_So?" she asked, with a sigh. "Why don't you drag Chase along? I mean, you see him everyday." _

_I actually tried that, but he stepped into my office and when I mentioned Jonas Brothers concert, and the two worded prompt of, "Let's go", he did a three sixty and stepped right out. _

"_Wimped out," I answered, shortly, and gradually braked when the next light turned green. _

"_Figures," Robyn said, with a roll of her eyes. She turned to me again. "So, why am I doing this again?" _

"_Because you love me, and think I'm the coolest aunt ever, and I won't blab about the pierced belly button," I answered. Oh, wow. I think I'm going to hell for blackmailing my own niece. Ha. "Who knows? You might see your future husband…" _

"_That's right. Toy with my head, with your psychoanalytic stuff." _

"_Gladly," I replied, with a teasing smile on my face. _

Okay, so let's just get over the ringtone. I'm aware of that. I can't help that the song is catchy.

The little screen flashed a number that I hadn't seen before. I guess it's a different area code, or something, but I was curious, so I answered, "Hello?"

The voice on the other line laughed, "Okay, please don't tell me hormones erased your memory of who I am. Well, you were right. My game of tag was a flop. Instead, it turned into a game of Switcheroo."

Oh. My. God.

"Chase…" I answered, and smiled. "I'd gloat, but I've out of it all day. It's raining here, which would explain the streaks on my window."

"I'll graciously live with that, knowing you'll just do it later," he answered. Ah, he knows me too well. "So, seriously, how are you? Has my cousin-to-be starting to wreck havoc yet? Gary told me she has. And tell me what's gone down at PCA since I left to be with a girl that is at PCA right now…"

I told you so. I told you so. I told you so. **I told you so.**

"You'll have to wait for the surprise…" I told him because I want to tell him, but I won't. It's not cool, and I want him to find out for himself.

Let's rewind, shall we?

Mark and Quinn broke up, making way for Logan to steal her heart, and start dating secretly. Mark, indifferently dates Brooke Margolin.

Vince Blake, the bully, is now nice, and is dating our resident actress, Lola. Reminds me of Brangelina, strangely. Maybe that's because they've already been dubbed the teenage Brangelina of PCA already.

I'd just like to take this time to say that me, Laura Michelle Whitman-Matthews, solely did all that work with Vince Blake. I'm the sole reason he's not violent anymore and not terrorizing Firewire right now.

The others only wanted to give the boy Ritalin. I was diagnosed with ADD, and it's still hard to live with, but the self-induced therapy works. The therapy? Well, dance. Duh.

I know what Ritalin does.

So, I did it the old-fashioned way. Ha!

And Zoey's boyfriend, James is the new guy on campus. She realizes that she's in love with you, and is somewhat of a walking zombie. Most likely sitting by a sewing working on something to keep herself busy, besides homework. Misses you greatly.

"Michael told me Zoey's got a new boyfriend. I basically prodded him into telling me," he confessed. He tried to sound happy, but he actually sounded kind of crest fallen.

"Are you okay with that, Chase?" I asked, seriously, all joking aside.

"Yeah, I mean, we both agreed to date other people. I dated a couple girls too, but I ended it because I'd compare them to Zoey, and I realized that they didn't match up," he admitted. I picture him looking all disoriented, because that's how good I am. "My immediate reaction was a lot of things. Anger at myself, and a tad at Zoey because I'm here because of her, and I didn't even get what I was set on getting when I came here. Sadness, frustration, and even a bit of nausea."

Oh, you poor boy.

My job just became a lot harder.

"You didn't actually you know, puke, did you?"

"Of course, I did," he admitted, sheepishly. "But I'll be back in a couple weeks or so, so that's my little light in a tunnel scenario. Everyone's been bit with the exam bug, so I'd better go enslave myself to studying. I miss you, though."

"I miss you too. I haven't changed that much anyway, besides the fact that I'm the size of a house, and I can't see my feet anymore," I added, with a laugh. I miss my feet. All ten toes. That's no joke. "Take care, Chase, and get your crazy self back to the States."

"Thanks. Bye Laura…"

"Bye, Chase," I replied, and let out a sigh when I snapped my phone shut. I looked at the external display. _9:30 am_.

Attention Crazies, Confused, Romantically Torn, and the Socially Inept:

My office is now open for heart pouring. Caring may vary, but won't be shown.

--

_**Week Four: Tuesday**_

"I need you to retrieve Quinn Pensky's transcript," Wayne told me. I'm not calling the little arrogant dude Firewire. It's not happening. Just like I'm not going to extract anyone's file.

"No," I simply said, letting down my hair from the clip this morning. I don't know why I did that, but now that I look at it. It just looks too done. I shook my hair out, making it look tousled. "Wayne – "

"It's Firewire!"

"_Wayne_, why can't you accept that you're equally smart?"

"Because," he said, with a grin that went ear to ear. "…I just want to Quinn to admit that I'm the smarter one. How could she loose Quinndows QP? It's one of the most elaborate computer programs out there!"

Uh, I don't know. I just don't know. Don't ask me any computer-related things.

"And I was considering asking her out to prom because she's single…"

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Bad idea, buddy. Especially when her boyfriend is a walking time bomb.

Bad idea to cross someone who's been to Anger Management class once, and is doing it again.

"…but if Quinn shoots us down, then I'm going for the next best person…"

Do I even want to know? He's actually implying that he and his friends are going to share one girl? That's just beyond creepy, seriously. Some of the kids here aren't not normal. Forgive me saying that, but it's the freaking truth. I didn't ask but he told me anyway.

"Zoey Brooks…"

Uh, okay.

I coughed, trying to suppress the laughter, "Then I wish you luck with that."

"So, Laura, about that file – "

"No, Wayne. It's not happening," I told him, matter of factly. I tried to ignore the fact that Erin's been all jumpy today, and is kicking harder than ever. She's not even born yet, and she's a martial arts expert. "And no, I don't know who Princess Oblongata's new love interest is in _Galaxy Wars_…"

I'm not even going to attempt to call Phil, and ask. It's his fault for giving Chase all those comic books from his comic book shop.

"Accept that you and Quinn are smarter than most people, and here's a thought: Let girls into the Science Club for once…"

He laughed, "L-M-A-O! That's funny!"

You know, if I were fifteen, and still violent, he'd have the biggest atomic wedgie ever. I'd hang on the flagpole by his underwear. Now, I'm twenty-eight and slightly irked.

"And you're welcome to think so, but I'm not going to give another student's transcript. You wanna be smarter? Well, go back to class, and maybe it'll work for you," I instructed, calmly. He relented, leaving my office and then he turned around again.

"Can you at least hint at her biology grade?"

"Hey, how about I hint at yours instead?" I quipped, with a smile on my face.

He left my office, pretty quick after that. The thing is, I haven't really looked at his record, so I forget his biology grade, but it was cool messing with his mind like that. I knew I was a psychology major for a reason.

That was certainly the highlight of my day.

--

_**Week Four: Wednesday**_

I'm now almost seven months pregnant – 27 weeks as of yesterday, to be exact.

She smiled today, and it was great because it was a stark contrast from last week. Walking in, with a gift bag, she handed it to me. It had transparent pink paper, and a big white bow.

"I've got Study Hall, but I wanted to drop by, and give you this," Zoey said, and I looked at her curiously. I pulled the pink paper out, and my eyes almost bugged out of my head. It was a big scrapbook with a lot of pages in them. Decorated with ribbons and bound with light pink leather, I glanced at the cover, _Erin's Baby Book, _was in silver glitter. This was so amazing, I was really speechless.

"Zoey, I don't know what to say. You shouldn't have made this, but I love it so much. Thank you," I said, sincerely, setting the book down, and wrapping her in a hug. She smiled at me when she pulled away.

"It's okay. I liked making it. Lola's like an expert knitter now, so she's also done her gift. Quinn's making you something too, so expect them to drop by," she told me. Well, thanks for the heads up. "I talked to Chase yesterday online for a little bit. We talked, and we laughed, and I felt good until we had to talk about James. Then it became awkward…"

Awkward is an understatement.

I think my brain has just slowed down a bit.

"But he was so understanding about it, and I didn't know where he got that quality from, until he told me about you. I guess he inherited that part of him from you…"

Crap.

CRAP!

MOTHER OF HOLY HELL!

Okay, so she knows. It's not a bad thing if people know I'm related to Chase, but I didn't want to tell people but I wanted to be just the Guidance Counsellor. It's kind of hard to explain now.

"What gave me away?" I questioned her, with a sigh. Well, at least, it's Zoey that knows. So, I'm not totally flipping out. I'm going to try to enjoy my happy place now.

"Your personality, for one. You're just so likeable, and you're pretty cool for a teacher. Almost like someone I can just have smoothies with, and talk about stuff," Zoey gave me a small smile. "And secondly, your complete and utter randomness, and the fact that you sort of having a resemblance to him doesn't hurt. It's not there at first glance, but the resemblance is there when you look hard enough."

Whoa. That was thorough.

"Yeah, so I'm Chase's aunt," I admitted, and almost begged her. "But keep it on the down low for a while, and thanks for the gift, it was sweet of you."

She tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear, her lips having a small smile on them, "And I did that to thank you for giving me my life again. Now, I'm just figuring out how to talk to James. I'll plan it all out in my head, and give myself about a week just to prepare."

Finally!

People that listen to me.

"Good," I said, and grabbed her hand. "Wanna feel something really cool?"

She nodded, and I took her hand, placing it against the side of my belly. I found it amazing every time Erin decided to give me a kick. I know that it happens all the time, but it's just that it feels like when I discovered when Erin was kicking for the very first time. I saw her with ultrasound over the weekend, and she's starting to do things like float around and suck her thumb. She's getting bigger, and I just pray I don't have a C Section.

It's like seeing Mickey Mouse at Disney World when I was nine. I've been Disney World more than once, and every time, I get excited when I see Mickey Mouse just because I'm a child at heart.

It's just amazing. Just like the look of surprise that Zoey gave me. She gently removed her hand.

"That's so amazing…"

"I know. That's how she says, 'what's up?'" I replied, laughing at my own joke because I'm funny like that. It was either this, or be a comedienne. I can't see why I can't do both. "Ooh, you'd better run to Study Hall."

She glanced at the watch, and hugged me again before running off to Study Hall.

She was right about Lola and Quinn stopping by.

I got a pink knitted baby blanket, and it was pretty big. It had ERIN stitched in it. How cool is that? I'll tell you. Coolage to the max! A personalized baby blanket.

Quinn's gift was one of those baby slings, but it's powerful because I can turn it on, and there are some gentle vibrations – I won't even be able to feel it – that'll put Erin right to sleep. She's tested in so many times it's foolproof. Technology today…

I really couldn't have asked for a better place to work at.

Now, I think I'm going to cry because I'm so damn happy.

--

_**Week Four: Thursday**_

"_England, Steven?" I asked, outraged. I've only been trying to be calm for Chase's sake, but I'm so mad right now. I paced his upstairs office, and frankly I felt like ripping my hair out, and maybe his too. This was so crazy, and I couldn't understand. How do you send your child all the way to some country, in a boarding school by himself for a semester? _

_Thank God Karen was out, and so was Robyn, because I was ready to turn this house around and basically shake it down. No one's stopping me, not even Gary. He even went as far as to hide my car keys. _

_Well, joke's on him, because I took his car instead, and he's stuck with my car. _

"_You kind of crack when you hear your son beg you twenty four hours straight," he replied, looking up at me from his paperwork. "I've never seen Chase so determined to do anything in his life so we let him." _

_I sighed, and rubbed my face, "Okay, but England? Let's just say that Zoey finds out Chase is in love with her, and comes back thinking Chase is still in California. What's going to happen when he spends four months stranded? Did you ever think of that? Did you ever think of the possibility of your son being stranded in England for nothing?" _

_Steven looks at me, and placed his hands on my shoulder, and laughed, "You're the only one that's had a crazy imagination." _

_And I've always had a violent temper too. I could feel my face turn red with anger, and I shoved his hand off my shoulder. This is the downside to being the last and only girl. You don't get taken seriously, and I hate that. _

"_Don't patronize me. I'm not thirteen, and wanting to be told what to do. I'm an adult with a husband and a life on my own, so don't try the 'whole big brother protector stunt' with me. I'm here because I'm looking out for Chase…" _

_My brother scoffed, and his eyes darkened slightly, "And Karen and I don't? I'm pretty sure he's my child. I look out for both my children, Laura._

_Oh, really? Then when Robyn wanted to become a dancer too, why did you say try to shut her down? _

"_Yeah, telling Robyn she couldn't dance when she's pretty damn good makes you Father of the Year!" I screamed, reaching my boiling point. "Just because it's not in your script for her! There are a lot of things you don't know about your children, Steve!"_

_I'm trying not to puke. _

_Don't puke, Laura. Stay angry now. Puke later. _

"_You've finally lost your mind, haven't you?" he questioned, laughing. _

"_And you've lost your balls," I retorted, smirking. "Sorry, bro, but when you find them, and decide to tell Robyn that you're sending her brother away, then call me." _

"_Leave, Laura…" _

"_Gladly, but," I sighed, softening up the tiniest bit. "…I realized that we agree on one thing. We both love Chase. But think about Robyn, when you downgrade her." _

_He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Is that all?" _

"_Nope," I replied, and expected his eyes to widen to the size of dinner plates when I told him. "I'm a month pregnant." _

_Yep, my expectations were correct. _

I knew that confrontation was bound to happen, because it was just the result of years of strained interaction. Steven was my oldest brother, and instead he tried to be my father. It irritated me to no end, and because no one actually bothered to listen to how I felt, I smiled and acted like the perfect daughter, but I hated everyone. Everyone was the enemy, and they were out to get me. That's why I rebelled, and I grew up really confused.

See, how messed up my logic was.

I remember once when I was about fifteen, I got into Phil's car, and drove it into a tree because I wanted to total it. Everyone just irritated me. My collarbone snapped like a twig, and I broke my leg, but I woke up at the hospital and thought it was worth it. It was worth it because I totalled his car into nothing. Chase was three and Robyn was two, so they don't remember.

I was on crutches, and couldn't dance for two months, but it was worth it. My head was a place you didn't want to be when I was fifteen. But it hasn't changed that much.

Like, jello really creeps me out.

I wonder how they get the cream in between Oreo Cookies, and I think clowns are just messed up. I shook my head to clear my head when Heather walked in with a clipboard to her chest; she smiled at me quite widely. Okay, I'm creeped out, and I don't even know why yet.

"Laura, why have you been holding out on me?" she asked, her dark eyes shining. She pulled up a chair, and I laughed, slightly.

"Okay, Heather. Rewind and tell me what I've kept from you…"

"You're a dancer! It says on your résumé that you took a dance minor at UCLA, right?" Heather exclaimed, with almost a slight squeal. "This is great because we need a dance teacher for the 2008-2009 year and – "

Well, I did, and I made it to Julliard in New York, but I turned it down because I needed to be somewhere totally different from Boston, and New York really wasn't. So, I set my sights on California as soon as I found out that I'd been accepted to University of California, Los Angeles. I left and my family followed, even though I wanted to get away from them.

But now, I'm glad.

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down for a minute," I said, playing a pen that sat idly on my desk. I sighed, looking at her expectant eyes. This is really sudden. She slid a paper, and it was serious since it was on PCA paper. You know? The paper with the logo and stuff. I scanned over it, and it had Dean Rivers' signature on it, meaning he had given it the green light. I looked back at her. "Heather, uh…I don't know what to say."

"I saw this, and thought of you. Just say you'll teach dance. We need another arts program or the department's budget gets snipped in half," she explained, her face taking on a frown, before she brightened a little. Heather's like my best friend here, and we've been out to lunch a couple times. Her husband, Henry and Gary, actually hang out more than we do. "So, all we need is your signature. I got Dean Rivers to sign before he got too absorbed in his game of Pacman."

As long as he continues to sign my pay check, I don't care what game he plays.

Even though I shudder at the image of Dean Rivers playing Dance Dance Revolution, he can keep signing my pay checks.

I'm flattered that I was recommended for this, but if I agree to do this, does that mean I won't the school psychologist anymore? I had to ask, but the answer was what was stopping from taking it, even though it probably I would get paid more. The money isn't the main motive, though. I really like dance, and do it on weekends. To do it all the time, would be amazing.

Dance would be like guidance counselling but with fewer words, and more musically co-ordinated movement.

"Okay, if I take this, would I still be the guidance counsellor?" I asked, hopefully.

I hope to God the answer's yes, because if it isn't, then I'm going to have sacrifice dance because I love this, just as much if not more.

"Look, I'll leave this with you, and you think the weekend to think about it. As for your question, I'm sorry Laura, but I don't know the answer. Talk to Dean Rivers on Monday or something," she suggested, and stood up to leave. "I have to go book the band for prom. They said they said two weeks in advance. Backlash or something…"

"_Backflesh_…" I corrected, and she smiled.

"I knew that…" she said, and her cheeks blazed pink. She sighed, directing a reassuring gaze. "Just think about it. No pressure here, okay?"

"Okay," I replied, knowing there was a load of pressure and then some.

Damn.

--

_**Week Four: Friday**_

I didn't know keeping a relationship meant having to play in the bushes, and completely reek of so many things I can't even begin to name. I felt that it was too nice of a day to stay at the office, so I was outside, sitting at one of the picnic tables on the farther end of campus. Seeing Logan is always fun, and nice, but not today.

"The things I will do for her…" he muttered, across from me. I'm abusing my nose for you, so you're even. You're luck I like you, Logan Reese. Ugh. I was going to ask him how anger management was going, but I want to hear this. I reached over, picking the leaves from his hair, and he shook the rest out.

Reminds me of how Chester behaves when he gets wet. I almost wanted to laugh, but didn't.

"Logan, I'm gonna be completely honest, and tell you that you completely reek…"

"Well, we can never get any time alone. We were almost caught once by Zoey, and twice by Lola," he explained, and grimaced picking a piece of bologna off of his shirt. "The leaves in my hair are because I had to crawl out the window, and jumped. The bushes broke my fall. Today, Lola almost walked by when we were together, so I had to jump into a dumpster before she could actually talk to Quinn."

He looked like he was about to rip his hair out, but I watched Logan soften a little bit.

"I want to tell people, but I'm not ready, and neither is she. It's frustrating, and I hate that we have to hide. But I love her, so if it means I get to be with her, then I'll keep jumping out of windows. Quinn's the only girl I've ever be serious. I've actually thought about it, and honestly, I can see myself marrying her."

Aww, that's SO sweet.

"Society sucks, but there are times where you have to go _against_ the flow of things, get it?" I said, shortly. I got a nod from him, and then wrinkled my nose slightly. "…but seriously, go shower."

Congratulations, Logan. You've gone from normal smelling to stanky in twenty-four hours.

"Yeah, I'd probably have to have Quinn burn my shoes," he stood up, and his face looked like he was trying not to scream bloody murder. "Later Laura. There's something in my sock, and I think it's moving."

He stood up, and walked away, and I made it my mission to go smell some flowers nearby. I was going to tell him about me, probably not being the guidance counsellor next year, but I couldn't. I think after I talk to Dean Rivers about my options, then I'll call them all in and tell them.

I hope next week won't be so hectic, even though I know it will.

**A/N: And there you have it. It's over, after three days of work. My computer's stupid, so I'm sorry the formatting is weird. I gave you a lot of insight into Laura's life before she became who she is. And next week, she'll be in her third trimester. Next chapter Lisa will see Laura, so will James. Prom is winding down. Will Laura choose to be a dance teacher? Find out her decision in the next chapter. Almost thirty reviews? You guys are amazing. **

**Review, **

**-Erika**


	5. Week Five

**A/N: Here's an update for Guidance. The review count was slightly lower than usual because of the alerts being sown, but I love this story, and I have a confession to make. I actually don't want to end it, because I'll be sad. But a sequel is under wraps, and is under construction, so I'm excited. Enough of my talking. **

**Disclaimer: Nope. The only character I own is Laura. You wanna borrow her for your stories, just ask. I don't even own the high school Laura went to, while in Massachusetts. I did research, and it exists.**

* * *

**Guidance **

**Week Five**

* * *

_**Week Five: Monday**_

_My brain is completely mush. _

_I don't think you don't understand how my brain has been pureed by the decision, and the whole mom-to-be deal. I've always wanted to be a dance teacher, if the astronaut-lawyer-carnie-daredevil thing didn't work out. I started when I was three, and haven't stopped since, but I love being the guidance counsellor. It doesn't even feel like a job, so it's second nature, and the kids actually listen to me._

_Even the consistently stubborn and hard headed. _

_My house was pretty quiet on this Saturday morning. The wall clock in the kitchen said it was just after eight, and I really couldn't sleep anymore. The kettle whistled loudly, telling me that my tea was ready. I pulled it off the stove, and turned the knob. _

_Green tea always helped, and I wasn't really perky in the morning. _

_I poured the water in, and lightly stirred with a small spoon. I chucked it in the sink with a clink, and blew it a little, before taking a small sip. Hopefully, I won't burn my tongue like I've done before. I sat at the table, yawning slightly. I guess I had a lot to think about. _

_Being a mother is just so surreal to me, and I had a dream that I had Erin, and I was playing with her as a toddler, and I woke up with a small voice calling me, "Mommy…" _

_I think that's what got me the most. I keep saying I'm excited about another little person in the house, and I can't wait. That doesn't mean I'm not scared either. Days turn in weeks, weeks into months, and then motherhood. Erin's going to depend on Gary and I for everything, and I don't like thinking about it, but what if I can't give her everything she wants? _

_It's so mind-blowing, and I don't want to screw it up. She's not even here yet, but I love her so much, and I don't want to blow this. _

"_Laura?" _

_I looked up from my steaming cup of tea to find Gary, and I smiled, "Whoa, someone has a major case of bedhead."_

"_You like?" he questioned, and kissed my forehead. We were married, but we still love to flirt. I nodded, and sipped my cup of tea when he sat beside me. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, before he took my hand and softly stroked it. It's the little things like that which make me wonder how the hell I got so lucky. "So, how are you this morning?" _

"_I'm okay. Erin's okay," I answered, and then sighed. I actually felt stupid for asking, but I had to hear it from the one person I knew I could trust. I mean, I could continue to hype myself up, but not in the morning. I can tell myself how freaking awesome I am later. "Gary, do you think I'd be a good mom?" _

_His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked at me, like I had three heads, "What? Babe, why would you even ask something like that?" _

"_Because although I'm excited, a part of me is afraid I'll screw up, and my mothering will suck," I explained, nervously chewing on my bottom lip. He laughed, and pecked my lips, his blue eyes shining. He really did look adorable with bedhead and all. I wanted to run my fingers through his dark brown hair. _

"_You're so silly, you know that?" he softly replied, and then brushed the wisps on hair from my eyes. "Laura, I can promise you that we're going to be great parents. You're going to shower our daughter with so much love and care, that it'll be ridiculous. But I'll love you even more than I do. I'm scared to be a first time father too, but I'll be there. For you and Erin. I love you." _

_My heart melted. Is it possible for someone's heart to melt like fifty times over in thirty seconds? Because that's what mine did. _

"_What did I do to get you?" _

"_Well, you sort of crashed into me," he recalled, with a laugh. I laughed too, because our first encounter was when I was on my way to dance class, and I was dancing there to get the choreography down, and I bumped into him, kind of distracted. As soon as he smiled, and offered me his hand to help me up, I felt this spark I hadn't felt with anyone else. "And soon as you smiled at me, and I looked into those green eyes, I was sold. I'm glad we literally bumped into each other." _

_Someone's also been hit with a double helping of romantic. I like it. _

_I couldn't keep the smile from growing on my face. _

"_Me too," I answered, and kissed him, my green tea long forgotten. _

Prom fever has officially hit Pacific Coast Academy like you wouldn't believe. Girls are scrambling to find the perfect dress, and matching accessories. I'm included in that mix. I tried on the dress I said I was going to wear to prom after dinner with the in-laws, and I hate it.

And then I saw it. I mean, I saw The Dress. The perfect evening maternity gown.

I could have sworn I saw the clouds parting, and heard the Hallelujah chorus. It was elegant and in the dark shade of red I wanted, and it was a perfect fit. No alterations needed, or anything. It's hard to find a dress that won't need altering, you know.

Note to Self: Raid _Claire's_ and _Ardene's_ for the matching accessories for said dress. Preferably something gold, because I've heard gold and red actually go pretty well together.

Girls are scrambling to find their dream dress, and the guys are scrambling to find their dates the perfect corsages. Well, corsages _and_ boutonnières.

I don't know why but I've been working like the Energizer Bunny. The paperwork is the "boring" part of the guidance counsellor stint. You know, transcripts, records and all the stuff that requires me to do the slow stuff on the computer. Usually, I'd attempt to catch a quick, reversible case of Carpel-Tunnel Syndrome, so I'd have a legitimate excuse, but today I woke up and thought indifferently, "What the hell…"

I was half-way done my labour (that's why it is, and I absolutely refuse to label it any other way), I was quite thrown off when Dean Rivers walked in, forcing me to sharply look up.

I swear, if he goes on and on about his wife's obsessive spending, then I'm done.

Stick a fork in me, and while you're at it, you can probably baste and/or stuff me, but at the end of the day, I'm done. He sat in a chair and I really hadn't made up my mind. In fact, I left that document in the largest, biggest drawer I could find. I was hoping that I could pull off that 'out of sight, out of mind' theory.

I wanted to punch the idiot that decided to coin that because it was staring me in the face in all its official and colourful glory, and it was pretty much all I thought about. Now the question is: to sign and not to sign.

Ah, Hamlet.

You were just as confused as I am. I didn't listen to your entire story, so you are nothing but a jaded memory.

"So, Laura, I'm sure you got the recommendation form Ms. Sullivan. Just sign and we'll put you for dance after you're complete with your maternity leave…"

Yeah, way to be a downer.

"Right," I responded, fiddling with a pen. I think too many of those. I think I'll give us some away to bums. Hey, a bum can use a good, sturdy working pen. Not those ones that run out after ten minutes. Bums are broke, not illiterate. Actually, some of them are actually freaking wise.

When I was thirteen, I made friends with a bum named Frankie because he always sat on the street my dance crew battled on. His riddles were weird, though.

_Yo. What's up? I'm Laura. Age. Thirteen. Mood. Amused, because I gave Chase a Sharpie and I watched him doodle all over Steve's face while asleep. He's two, and my nephew. Now, it's Sharpie marker. Yesterday, it was streaking my house butt naked while my mom tried to change him. He didn't let me leave until I gave him his "nose" back._

_Robyn's a year, and my niece. Yesterday, she put her foot in her mouth. _

"_Hey Frankie," I greeted, while stopping on my skateboard one night. He looked up at me, and smiled. I went into my bag, and pulled out a peanut and jelly sandwich. I hate those. I like peanut butter, and I like jelly, but never together. _

"_Hey, kid," he gruffly responded, and took the sandwich from me. "So, you stayin' outta trouble?" _

_Well, if you count breaking Jenna Harrison's nose, and calling her an abortion gone wrong, then yes. I've been a good girl. I smiled and just sat with me because he needed the company. He smells like cigarettes, but I'm used to it._

"_Aw, dude, it's like you don't know me at all," I answered, with a laugh. Frankie's a chill guy even though he lives out here. He smiled too at my reply. _

"_Atta girl. You don't ever let society tell you what you gotta do, you hear?" _

_I nodded, because it was so true. I never listen to anything, but I'll listen to this. _

Wonder what happened to that guy. When I get around to getting to Boston, I should look for him.

"So, will you be the new dance teacher?"

_Ohhh_. That.

I cleared my throat, "Uh, Dean Rivers, I'm flattered that I was named for this job, but I have to ask you something. If I take this job, would I still be able to double up and still be the guidance counsellor? Because if I can't, then it'll make my life a lot more difficult."

I've heard of a lot of teachers doubling up. For example, Coach Keller (the man talks to anything edible from a simple piece of gum to a pan of brownies – it's actually pretty entertaining and creepy at the same time) is the coach, and the lower grade English teacher.

The man can't speak English much less teach it.

Dean Rivers actually looked like he was pondering it. Is he actually _thinking_?

"Well, if I can allow Coach Keller to teach English," he answered, and got a look that looked he had swallowed poison, and then he looked at me and nodded. "…then I don't see why you can't do both. PCA needs a bit of dance anyway."

I let out the biggest breath of relief, and grabbed the document, scrawling my signature on the bottom line.

"Thank you so much…"

"And besides, if you're not the guidance counsellor, then I'm in trouble," he said, putting the paper I had signed in his pocket.

"Why's that? If you don't mind me asking…"

"Because not only do the students need to vent," he made himself comfortable in the chair, and suddenly I wanted to get the hell out of there and run far, far away. Oh, I wish that were freaking possible. "I do too."

I forced a smile, while containing my scream, "Vent away. I'm happy to help."

No, I'm not. I don't know what I'm saying. The estrogen has screwed with my brain. I mean, I'm pregnant, and hormonal. I say the stupidest things. Dean Rivers, don't listen to me!

ABORT MISSION!

Freaking Abort!

"So, what's the problem?" I heard myself ask. Oh, I'm stupid. Yes, Erin. Your mom's incredibly stupid. I should slap myself for asking.

Shit has just hit the fan.

I repeat, people, SHIT HAS HIT THE FAN!

--

_**Week Five: Tuesday**_

_It's a starry night, and I was voted Fenway High School's Class of 1998 Class Clown. _

_The hype was put around this so much that it's ridiculous, but I guess I can't complain with the silky, royal blue gown I was wearing. Prom was actually pretty decent. The one night everyone expected me to be wasted and wild, I stayed sober, and semi-reserved. I guess it's that willpower crap I know my parents drilled into my head through subliminal messaging. Don't tell me other wise. _

_I went to prom with my best friend-turned-boyfriend, Stan. Him, Leah, and I were all the same age with me being the oldest since I was born in January. Stan was born in March, and Leah's a May baby, which explains why she's stubborn as hell. Well, with respect to Leah, he's my guy best friend. He was a sweet guy, and someone I confided in all the time. Did I mention that he could do the sweetest air flares? _

_It's strange and something feels off because I'm making out with him, as I kiss him goodnight. It feels weird. I mean, we all pecked each other goodbye and hello, and never thought twice about it. I always thought kissing Stan like this was to be a heart-racing, earth-shattering, and ground-breaking experience but it…wasn't. It's like keeping soda out, hoping that it'll still be fizzy, and when you drink it, it's flat._

_Yes, I'm comparing this to the fizziness of soda. _

_I pulled away, almost at the same time, he did. He looked off to the side a little bit, running a hand through his dirty blonde mop of hair. I really don't know how to feel to honest with you. _

"_Wow, that was __**so**__ not what I expected…" _

_Yeah, that's an understatement. I think it's going into awkward, and weird territory. I realized that I liked Stan as my friend, the guy I could talk to for hours, and throw popcorn at in a movie theatre while all of those couples ripped off each other's faces, instead of watching the movie. We threw popcorn at each other, and then at mentioned couples. Good times. _

_And I didn't want to lose that. Stan wasn't the boyfriend type of guy, at least for me. _

"_Stan, I'm sorry…" I blurted out, and his hazel eyes turned on me. His eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion. I really didn't want things to get too weird, even though I naturally embrace the weird, and 'out there'. "I really like you, and I didn't mean for things to get weird…" _

"_Laura…" _

_Can you see I'm rambling? It's supposed to be somewhat of an apology. Happy hunting._

"…_it'll crush me if we can't get past this, and still be friends and – "_

"_Laura!" he yelled, and got attention by grabbing my shoulders, and shaking them slightly to get my attention. Mission accomplished, buddy. I blinked, feeling like a deer in the headlights. Now, all that's missing is the truck that will swerve last minute to avoid me. _

_Must be the metaphorical driver that decided to fall asleep at the wheel. _

_Metaphorical idiot. _

"_Look, it's cool, okay?" Stan replied, with one of his crooked smiles and tightly touched his fist to my arm. He always did something affectionate like that. Words didn't have to be spoken, but it made me feel so much better. We just mutually understood that we couldn't be in a relationship. "If it makes you feel better, I was stressing over how to end it." _

_Okay. _

_I didn't know how to respond to that, so I punched him near his bicep on his left arm. _

"_Ow!" _

"_Deserved it!" I retorted, sticking my tongue out like I was a five year old. He looked at me, with a joking deadpanned expression on his face, while rubbing his arm. I only shrugged, pretending to be innocent. "What? I'm your ex-girlfriend now. I think I'm allowed to be mean to you." _

"_Oh, that's mature, Matthews. You and your technicalities." _

_I playfully shoved him, and rolled my eyes, "Go home, you dork." _

_He shook his head, with a laugh, "Evil, evil girl…"_

"_And don't you forget it…" _

_Stan hugged me goodbye and walked away towards his house. It was only a couple of blocks away from mine. _

_He walked away not as my boyfriend, but as my best friend – okay, Leah. Don't jump on me! Let's rewind and rephrase, shall we? _

_He walked away not as my boyfriend, but as my best guy friend in the world. _

_I was happy with that. _

Tuesdays are pivotal days.

At least when it comes to me, I definitely think so. Today marks week 28, which equates to seven months pregnant. Third trimester, baby! With regards to Tuesday, gas prices seem lower, not that it makes a difference, but whatever. The best deals are on Tuesday too.

Even though, my weird logic told me to expect something big, the sentence that fell from James' lips me produce a sound that sounded like a cross between a gasp, and a suppressed cough. Coughs sort of make your breath go downward, while gasps make said breaths come up.

Two words, folks.

Windpipe. Collision.

"It took a lot of deep thinking, but I think I'm going to take that leap of faith, and tell Zoey I love her, and I care about her…"

Well, before you do any leaps, wear a helmet and don't look down. Can't have you plunge and hurt yourself, now can we? For cushioning and support, a good sturdy spoon and a tub of _Ben & Jerry's_ is also ideal. Ice-cream always makes a broken heart better…most of the time. I feel bad for him, like you have no idea. James is really good person, and he really doesn't deserve the heart stomping he's about to get.

See, this just proves that I'm not rooting for anyone. I almost wish James was a jerk, but he really not. He's smart and ambitious and just all around good-natured. I'll be super ecstatic to see Chase, but God…

"Wow, so you're actually gonna tell her, huh?" I questioned, hoping not to cause another windpipe collision of sorts. He looked like he was thinking about it, and then he nodded.

"Yeah," he replied, and went into his pockets. I didn't have time to ask because he produced a small box. I looked at him, clearly confused, and he gave me a sheepish smile. "It took me the entire weekend to get that for her, but I think this will do it."

"Uh, may I?" I asked, and he gave me the green light. I gently pulled the top of the box off, and in it sat a heart-shaped pendant in gold sitting on a thin gold chain. It was pretty. I'm going to lie. It didn't look like it had anything on it, but it was pretty and sentimental in a simplistic way. I flipped the back, and saw that it had been engraved.

My eyes almost bugged out of my head.

Wow, for someone that talks a lot, this really shut me up.

The words _I Love You_ were engraved on the back. I let out an inaudible breath, and put the necklace back in its box. He took it, putting it back in his pocket. At least it wasn't an engagement ring.

That would have caused major problems, and then I'd have all of these damaged psyches to fix. I'm a guidance counsellor, and probably a cool one, but reality check, people!

I'm not God.

"So, you're a woman," he began, and I had to hold in my laughter. Why, thank you James. I guess the tender boobs, and pregnancy blew my cover, huh? "…do you think she'll like it?"

"I don't know that for sure, but when do you plan to give it to her?"

"Definitely not now, but I think I'll give it to her sometime next week," James answered, and stood up, offering me a small smile. "I have baseball practice in five minutes, so I'll see you Laura. Wish me luck…"

"I'll keep my fingers crossed," I assured, and showed him my crossed fingers for emphasis. He waved once more and left my office, closing the door with a click.

I knew stuff was going to go down this week…

--

_**Week Five: Wednesday **_

"I love him, and I try to be a good girlfriend, but there comes a time where I have to tell Michael that he can't drive!" Lisa told me, and she sounded like she was exasperated, but frustrated too. She sighed, and collapsed in my chair, and fiddled with her fingers.

"Well, how about you tell me from the beginning?"

"Okay," Lisa took a deep breath and began explaining. "…so we were on a date, and talking about prom coming up, and he insisted that we drive to prom, when we could very well walk. Michael just got his license. I was so happy for him, and then he told me his dad was getting him a car because he wanted to drive me so badly to prom…"

Ah, typical Michael. Gentleman-like.

"Out of curiosity, what type is the car?"

"According to his dad, it's a stickshift, and I'm terrified of stickshifts, you have no idea…"

The first car I ever had was a stickshift my psycho granny gave me when I was sixteen and a new driver. You'd think she was doing it to be caring, but now that I go back and think about it, I think she thought I was stupid teenager and expected me to crash into a tree…again.

Rest in peace, psycho granny.

That's pretty nice considering we all called her the Dragon Lady. Everyone in my family did.

I was going to attach 'Here Lies Psycho Granny – terrorizer of all' to the bottom of her tombstone. But I got this lecture about respecting the dead. That woman won't respect anyone dead or alive. My hatred of Eleanor isn't pointless. It's actually because she looks and behaves like my grandmother. No joke.

I have a theory that she's come to haunt me from beyond the grave.

"Why?"

"Because when I was little, my dad borrowed my uncle's car for a family vacation. It was a stickshift. We were driving through the woods, and to the day I really don't know why. I'm not a rocket scientist, but I'm pretty sure there are freeways in Houston…" she trailed off, and then continued. "…well, my dad lost control for a split second, and we crashed into a tree. Hard."

Oh my God.

All I did was nearly get myself maimed, out of revenge.

"So, I haven't stepped into a stickshift since," Lisa finished, explaining.

"Okay, well, you're in a relationship, honey," I told her. Hello? The boy's your boyfriend, and he'd take anything you say into consideration. "Just tell that until he learns, you're not letting him drive you anywhere…"

"Just like that?" Lisa asked, her eyes shining with obvious confusion.

"Yes, Michael will get it, if he loves you enough. In the immortal words of the Spice Girls: Girl Power," I told her, with a smile and a playful wink. Because Lisa's not only a singer, but she's a bit of a feminist too. I respect that highly. As for the Spice Girls reference, I wasn't hardcore, okay? But it was…you know, catchy.

Stop right now, thank you very much. I need someone with the human –

Don't judge me!

She giggled at me, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder, "Right. I'll talk to you later, after I talk to my boyfriend. Why do I love him again?"

"Because it's Michael…"

I laughed to myself, remembering our session on his fears of rollercoasters, three weeks ago.

"That's _exactly_ why. Later Laura."

Lisa's a good brand of people, and my craving for chocolate has kicked in.

Nice.

--

_**Week Five: Thursday**_

I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone, because I'm staring at an experiment gone totally wrong. The Twilight Zone has been great, but I want out. I want to be in a world where couples don't go body hopping. Maybe, bed hopping with protection, and with each other.

Yes, safe sex, people! Meaning that you should use a freaking condom. It's not hard.

Okay, I told you Logan, Quinn and the entire relationship was cute, and more entertaining than cable, which is still true. I'm not going to lie, but I have no words to describe what I'm looking at right now. If I told people what I was staring at, I'd earn myself a straight jacket and a one-way ticket to a mental asylum.

"Logan, stop twirling my hair like that!"

"Well, you're kinda in my body, so I'll twirl away if I want! I'm bored, so I'm twirling, twirling…"

"God, you're irritating," Quinn huffed, crossing Logan's arms over his chest. Notice how quiet I've been. The silence actually helps because I'll be able to process this, and be rational.

"And you love me anyway, so deal, Pensky. Your hair is so soft…"

"You're lucky you're adorable, Logan…" she retorted, and then muttered. "And sweet when you want to be."

"And as much I love you guys, I'm disturbed," I chimed, being truthful. I may need therapy for myself. Ironic, isn't it? I gestured to the interchanged couple, sitting across from me. I could just imagine them, pretending to be each other. "How did this happen?"

"Well, I was making a new compound, sort of like a DNA scrambler, but the sodium nitrate, and magnesium phosphate solution clashed somehow. Logan happened to be the last person I kissed before I came back to test it. I did, and went to bed on Wednesday, thinking that it didn't work, and this morning I woke up in the boys' dorm, while Logan woke up in my bed…"

I told you I was chemistry, and probably biology challenged. Now, you get to see that in work. It's weird hearing Quinn explain that in Logan's body, and his voice.

Over my head. Gone. Like whoosh.

"What?" Logan and I both said at the same time. Quinn sighed.

"It means I had some of Logan's DNA when he kissed me. We had each other's DNA…"

"We made out," Logan corrected, uncrossing Quinn's legs. "…and yeah, I'm in this body, while she's in mine."

"How did you guys change in clothes and…" I started to ask, and stopped. I shook my head, with a smile. I don't want to go there. I won't touch that with a ten foot metal pipe. I'm removing my pregnant self from the equation. "Okay, on second thought, I don't want to even know…"

Logan and Quinn looked at each other, and said at the same time, "System."

Dare I ask what this system is? No, because I don't want to know. And that's the truth.

"Okay," I said, going into my drawers, and opening a new pad of PostIts. I scrawled down Logan on one and Quinn on the other. I reached over, putting the _Logan_ one on where Quinn's body was, and the _Quinn_ one on where Logan's body was. "There. That's so my brain doesn't explode from me being confused. Take 'em off when you leave."

Now, I was past disturbed, and quite amused, so I laughed.

"It's not funny, Laura!"

"Sorry, Quinn," I apologized, my laughter subsiding before I cleared my throat. Then I giggled again. Oh, Lordy. Last week, it was swimming in a dumpster, and this week, it's switching bodies. This is wayyy better than TV. "Okay, okay. I'm done. Seriously. So, tell me when do you guys get back to normal?"

"I've already made an antidote to switch back, but it involves a needle," Quinn explained, and at the mention of a needle, she looked at Logan pointedly. It's weird glaring at yourself.

"No!" Logan instantly snapped, and shook Quinn's head adamantly, and then crossed her arms. "I'm putting my shoe down!"

"Baby, you're wearing wedges…"

"Okay, then I'm putting those down, then," Logan replied, in that adamant tone. "I want my body back as much the next guy…even though I don't look like a guy right now. But no needles. You didn't say anything about pain."

"Logan, will you just take the needle already?" I asked, before I developed a headache. I can't take pills. Damn.

"Okay, but afterwards, can we go make out a little longer than we usually do?" he questioned, making Quinn's lips pull into a smile that into a smirk. "I've never kissed myself before."

Okay, I'm back to being disturbed. To the millionth power.

"Yes, okay. I'll make out with you, when you're not difficult about the antidote," Quinn replied, sighing, and turned to me. "And I still I love him. Logan, stop twirling my hair, please!"

"Okay, sorry…"

"Thank you…"

"I'll just play with it before bed…"

Quinn pinched her upper arm, being completely aware that she just pinched herself. Well, Logan felt it, and he cried out in pain, and rubbed Quinn's upper arm.

"And that's the thanks I get for kicking Firewire in the nuts because they were mean to you, well me. Women."

That was cute, and still disturbing. I just realized that Tuesdays and Thursdays were my weirdest days. This is very true, but Quinn and Logan are cute, nonetheless. Maybe, not in this context, but they're you know…

Cute.

--

_**Week Five: Friday **_

"Laura, it's really me. Quinn's needle thing worked…"

"Okay, if you're really Logan, instead of Quinn, who's Albert Einstein?" I asked. Logan wouldn't know that, but Quinn would. "…and what's your prized possession?"

"I don't know, but he had terrible hair, and my three prized possessions are Quinn, the mirrors I keep in my drawer, and my good luck charm stuffed monkey, David Monkeyhoff. I was nine when I got him," he explained. "Come on, I wouldn't tell anyone that, so you should know that it's Logan this time."

Okay, so the real Logan Reese is back. Thank God. I'm trying to convince myself that yesterday didn't happen. My stupid photographic memory stores this. I'm afraid it works too well.

Stupid incompetent photographic memory.

But while I continue to slam my photographic memory, and how completely retarded it can potentially be, I can't help but smile inwardly at the adorableness of David Monkeyhoff, but I'm even more curious to find out how Logan pretended to be Quinn for a whole day.

"I have to know how you pretended to be your girlfriend for a day…"

"Well, I never thought it was _that_ hard. The only class I wasn't confused in was chemistry, and physics before Quinn was tutoring me with that, but I think Advanced Calculus is evil," he explained, and visibly cringed. "And then I never realized how much trouble Firewire and his bands of dorks gave Quinn because she was smart. I used that to my advantage…"

I ran a hand through my hair, and I was craving more chocolate. When I wasn't pregnant, I had this in moderation, but now it's seriously out of hand. I woke up Gary in the middle of night to drive down to the store to get me chocolate ice-cream. It was that bad last night.

Erin's gonna grow up to be a chocoholic. I know she will.

"Oh, God…" I said, a little apprehensive. Logan's eyes slightly widened, and he was trying to get me to understand that he wasn't impulsive this time.

"Laura, I actually thought about it for once. You know, like Anger Management has been drilling into my head all this time," he told me, with a hint of irritation. "The bottom line is I did what Quinn would do, and thought about it."

"Okay, Logan, let me hear it…"

I should have brought a bowl of popcorn for this, because I know this explanation was going to be at a TV special length, if not a full movie. I told you he's like a book you sometimes have to read and analyze. God knows I'm blunt and straight-forward, and I hate that reading between-the-lines crap, but it's sort of compulsive.

"I kneed Firewire in the nuts," Logan said, plainly with a nonchalantly.

I'm sorry, I think my ear just gave out for a split second.

"Wanna repeat that?"

"I kneed Firewire in the balls, because he was bashing Quinn," he explained. "Here's what I thought. One, he deserved it, and I know a lot of girls wanted to do it. I used to be enemy number one on that list. Two, he can't hit a girl, and three, if it wanted to kick back, he couldn't. There's nothing there! And that was before he tried to ask her to prom! I mean, what the hell…"

Oh, Logan. Your logic is so screwed. I'm not even going to attempt to read between the lines on this one. Why? Because it's simple, Logan clearly has jealousy problems and is territorial.

I blinked in shock, before I spoke, "Well, now that you're back to normal, does she know what you did?"

"Well, um, yeah… I hate when she's mad, even though she looks amazing when she's angry," Logan answered, nervously. Why does _every_ guy say that? What is it about that murderous glare that makes them think we're attractive? I took Psychology and I don't even know that. Gary says my glares are sexy, and when I'm in the middle of yelling at him, he'll just kiss me.

That's kinda we got Erin, if you know what I mean. A little something called Make Up Sex.

Then again, ignore me because I'm prone to spout out a whole lot of stupid.

He snapped his fingers, his face looking like he was getting an idea, "Okay, we'll sneak off campus and I'll take her out all weekend, and then we'll back Sunday night at separate times so no one suspects anything. That'll make up for it. I mean, girls like that, right?"

Aw, he's so desperate to make Quinn happy. Pre-Quinn Logan would have never did that, so I'm proud of him, and the progress he's made. I mean that.

"Yes, Logan," I answered, with a laugh. "Seeing as I'm a girl, I feel obligated to tell you that yes. We like those things."

"Good. So, how many months now?"

"Seven, as of Tuesday…"

"Lola's planning a baby shower for you for Monday, so act surprised. The girl has fangs, I know Zoey would kill me if he had the chance, and Quinn hurts my heart, and that hurts me more than her laser watch," he told me, and almost looked like he was replaying the memory. "…so act surprised."

I'm getting a baby shower, I'm getting a baby shower, I'm getting a baby show –

"Oh, right. Act surprised. Gotcha," I confirmed, and nodded.

"Thanks. I've got a romantic weekend to plan, and a girlfriend to meet. Later Laura!" he said, and almost bolted out my office.

Ah, you lovesick boy.

I sighed with relief, glad the weekend was on its way, and that prom was a week tomorrow.

Note to Self: Check if there are any chocolate truffles left.

* * *

**A/N: And the chapter is over. 12 pages, and nearly 6000 words, but it's over. I'm putting about three more chapters, so the story will have a total of eight chapters, and that's including the epilogue. So look out for that. I'll be writing a Chase centric oneshot once I write it down in my notebook and smooth out the rough edges. My goal date is to have it out by July 14 in honour of Sean Flynn's birthday, or the day after. So, yeah…**

**Okay, now we're getting to the serious stuff. I'm aware that there is a Logan/Dana vs. Quogan war that has broken out with all of the spoofs being made. I'm sure many of you wonder my take on this. Well, I've decided not to get dragged into it, and will simply watch from the sidelines. I just hope the section isn't full of spoofs or "missiles", and people don't forget what the show and writing itself embodies. So that's my take on that.**

**Aside from that, I have a Tokio Hotel songfic to the song "Monsoon" brewing. I'm still deciding whether to make it Choey, or Quogan. Listen to the song and tell me which couple I should use. If you listen to the lyrics, they both work for both couples. **

**Give me your reviews, and thoughts on the upcoming oneshots, and the song. **

**Review, **

**-Erika **


	6. Week Six

**A/N: I've written the next chapter of Letters To You so I'm opting for the sixth chapter of Guidance. It's the prom week one, the one I've anticipating to write ever since I started this story in April. Ah, prepare for the random thoughts of our crazy and lovable guidance counselor. **

**This chapter is dedicated to Annalisa (Lady Liln), and Jessica (Charmed4eva112) for being reviewers number 100 & 101. Much thanks, you guys. I hope you especially enjoy this chapter. I suggest you guys check out these authors too. They're amazing writers and people.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine. If you know it, I don't own it.**

* * *

**Guidance**

**Week Six**

* * *

_**Week Six: Monday**_

_Now, let me tell you something about the in-laws. Gary's parents, Jerry and Susan are the sweetest people ever. Jerry's like the laid-back father, while Susan is the protective mother hen. She can't cook or she attempts and ends up creating crimes against the kitchen, but I love her anyway. Susan's the only maternal figure I've got. Then there's Gary's older sister, Julie. She hates me, and trust me, the feeling is mutual. She thinks I've trapped her brother, but I could care less. _

_I'm the one with the marriage, yet she's the one with the teetering marriage because she couldn't keep her legs shut. Props to you, Paul. Run for the high hills. I'm still wondering how the hell she's in the same gene pool with Gary. Her five year old is a sweetie. Poor Jamie. Poor child is in the middle of a divorce because she slept a dude named Jim._

_Hey, I don't know his name, but neither does she. _

_Okay, that was mean of me. _

…

…

_PSYCHE!_

_So, PCA's prom night was soon, and I was going to be showing up later because of dinner with the in-laws. We were going to __**That's Amore**__, the restaurant that just opened up. I was reading all of these baby books, Karen actually made me read. She read them when she was pregnant with Chase, and then again with Robyn. _

_Gary walked in, looking kind of nervous when he sat down on my bed. I smiled, and then I grew confused. His hair looked ruffled, and his tie was undone, and just hung around his neck. _

"_Gary, what's wrong?" _

"_Well, there's been a change in plans, and no, my mom isn't cooking. I don't think she can make ice," my husband told me, and then laughed nervously. He looked that stressed look, and his eyes looked the way they did when we went on our date first. Nothing says romantic like champagne dumped in your lap, but he got spaghetti sauce all over him, and we smelled like garlic. But it was awesome. _

"_So, if you're mother if cooking, then why do you look like you just killed an hour driving around town because you look so frazzled?"_

"_Hey, how'd you know I did that?"_

_What the hell. I was just spiltballing, and he actually killed gas? _

"_Gary!" I cried, exasperated. I love you, Karen but I think I know how to change a diaper, and remember to hold an infant by holding its head securely the most, and that the top is actually pretty friggin' soft. So, I'm done reading today. Yes, my sister-in-law is going to be the one delivering her own niece. She's been watching the entire pregnancy, so it only fitting that she delivers. Everything is a family effort on both sides. "What happened?"_

"_Well, you know how we were just going to dinner with mom and dad? Well, they thought it would be more of a family thing if you know, the whole Whitman clan came along. And Julie's my older sister so…"_

_Oh, great. I'm going to glare heatedly at my husband and hope that my glare is powerful to burn through him, and hope it's powerful enough to incinerate her. I crossed my arms over my chest, and sighed because I'm angry but I can't be. I'm pregnant, and my stress can't affect Erin, especially now that I'm in my third trimester, and I can't handle a premature birth. _

"_Your sister hates me," I told him, plainly and let out a deep and calming breath. Was I calm? Yeah, I was calm as a thunderstorm. "Now, I really don't want to go. Tell your parents I'm sorry but I'm out."_

_I swung my feet over my bed, and was going to walk out and grab fresh air. I don't know why she hates me. She just does, and for as long as I could remember I've adopted the philosophy of "get in my face, and I'll damage yours". When I was five, Todd Peckelman put gum in my hair, and it had to be cut shorter. To get him back, I put sand down in his pants and poured apple juice on his mat so it looked like he peed himself. The gum stunt earned him five years of torture Laura Matthews style._

_The moral of the story: screw with me, and things will go down one way or the other._

"_Laura," he stopped me, and grabbed my wrist gently. "Please. We're only there for two hours. I know the rift between you and Jules."_

_That's right. Throwing in the nickname will really help me feel better. _

_I said nothing, but I looked him, with an eyebrow raised in questioning. His eyes were pleading. _

"_Please, sweetheart. For me?"_

_Oh, come on. I'm already getting fat for you. I'm the one that's going to have the screaming baby pushed out of me, and don't even get me started on the pain._

"_You're lucky I love you enough to be civil to your sister," I relented and sighed. I punched him in the shoulder, making him recoil, and then I kissed his cheek. "I'm hungry, so I'm leaning towards Chinese or pizza. The Red Sox game is on, and I'm off to watch."_

_A good baseball game against the Yankees would make me feel better. _

_Hey, it's the next best thing to kicking Julie's ass from here to Alaska._

Staff meeting number… well, I lost count… went neutral for me.

Everything went in through one ear, and came out the other because I really don't want to have to listen to Eleanor complain that her class average is too high. Isn't that supposed to be good? First, she says it's too low, and paints the kids as incompetent and lazy. She says the curriculum is bogus, and now she says the students are doing a bit too well.

God, she should just make up her mind. Either she's senile, or just a cranky old lady that needs to go sleep forever. Well, that's a nice way of putting it, and that's surprising coming from me.

The only food thing about my weekend is that the Red Sox won, with a beautiful home run. It was so amazing I taped it, and it made me proud to be from Boston. And you know what? I'd gladly take the Boston Celtics over the Lakers anyway. Kobe Bryant's not even that cute anyway.

Now, how did I go from an irritating teacher's meeting to sports?

Well, the irrelevant tangents take me away from the fact that I have to share the same breathing space as Julie. That didn't feel right to think. Or picture.

Insert shudder here. No, really. I'm actually cringing, and I just hope that the pretty good bacon and eggs I ate will no longer reside, but will be seen on the floor. And Lord knows, I've done enough puking for a lifetime. Three months felt like three centuries.

Ew. Ew. Ew. EW!

Okay, Laura. I like sports. I like basketball. I like watching a football shaped like her double wide head being kicked around! Ugh. I growled, and was on almost teetering on ripping my hair out, but I don't think I want to meet my child bald. I like my hair and…

"Oh my God! This totally sucks!" I yelled to air, obviously. So it can't really count as nothing, because we basically breathe in air, unless the greenhouse gases kill us all. Poor ozone layer.

"What sucks?" a voice questioned confused. It was Vince Blake, all nice and docile thanks to me. Yes, I'll shamelessly pimp myself out. Keyword, being SHAMELESS! I'm pregnant. Doesn't that count for anything? The football looked at me, as if to question me, and he laughed, a little while sitting down across from me. "You're not having a quarter-life crisis, are you?"

"No," I answered, letting out a breath I forgot I was holding. God forbid I suffocate and kill us both. Knock on wood, Laura. Knock on wood. "More of an evil sister-in-law crisis. And why is it a quarter-life crisis anyway?"

"Because I read in one of these suicide pamphlets at the shrink's office one day that someone doesn't go through a mid-life crisis until they reach forty."

"Ohhh," and then I got confused, while I did the math. So…forty times two. "So, they just expect us to die at eighty? And even so, why would that be in a pamphlet on suicide?"

"I don't know."

Let me just taking the time to say that suicide is NOT the answer. I'm going to have my own Public Service Announcement and say that you may feel like you want to die, but I hope you're not actually stupid enough to off yourself! DON'T DO IT!

Okay, and now I'm taking yet another detour. See, how warped am I today?

And someone please tell me how I was randomly selected to teach Sex Ed on Wednesday, because Mrs. Gardiner…that's Pamela, had a family emergency for that day. She nice and I can tolerate her when she's not blathering on about the many uses of a dildo. She's like Stacy without the lisp and a much dirtier head, so Dean Rivers actually made her teach something she's good at.

We're all one dysfunctional faculty. But who the hell is really normal anyway?

I would not be surprised if she slept with Elvis, and Mick Jagger.

I'm going to stop this tirade right now.

But come on? Why in the name of Hannah Montana would I be chosen for Sex Ed? Stupid hat. Stupid piece of paper with my name on it. Stupid…statistics and dumb game of chance!

Okay, my venting stops right now.

"But what's going on with you, Vince? You and Lola are still going strong, I hope."

"Yeah," he replied, and smiled when I mentioned Lola. He blushed too. Aw, you love struck football star, you. But then he looked like he was thinking, and sighed. His eyes were filled with slight frustration. "But I don't know what to do. I mean, I love Lola, but I'm just slightly frustrated right now."

"What? With her?"

"No, no," he clarified. "She didn't do anything wrong. She's an amazing girlfriend. It's just that we're both busy. We never seem to get any alone time together anymore. I have football practice because the last game is couple of weeks after prom. Lola has her acting, and she just became head of the prom committee. It's the circumstances around that and we're just so busy, y'know? I want to plan something romantic for her, but I don't know what to do yet."

"Hmm," I thought, looking up in thought. I looked at him again, because the ceiling lights were pretty bright and I didn't want to damage my retinas. I'm starting to see why people actually wear shades inside. "Well, you can't meet up sometime this way, right? I suggest that you take her out before prom. Somewhere you can eat…"

"There'll be food at prom, though, right?"

Yeah, but you see there's always been this thing but the relationship between nicely dressed people, and crappy food that doesn't even look edible. The caterer can have the best reputation but you'll go home wishing you never ate it. Every single prom.

Hello food poisoning.

"Yeah, but you and Lola will never get any alone time if you're…" I was about to say puking up your guts, but came up with something else. "…with other people. If you want a good restaurant, I recommend Pete & Sam's…"

Their food is crazy. And their ribs and pasta are like amazing, but I have to stay away from spicy foods.

Yes, I'm aware that having spicy or mild ribs is a choice – which is why I'll pretty much eat anything spicy.

"Really?"

"Yeah, their food is at a reasonable price and it's actually pretty easy to get reservations, so take her out…"

"I could do that, but what if makes us late for prom?"

I laughed a little, because boys really don't understand the female mind. Well, I don't think girls understand the male mind either. There are some scary things with testosterone. How do I know that? Well, I don't. It's all based on speculation, but I could actually be right.

"Um, Lola's a girl, and us girls like being fashionably late. Why do you think we make you guys wait twenty minutes after we're actually ready?" I questioned, only semi-joking. It's true. You know. We gotta moisturize, accessorize, and make-up-ize. "Trust me. We like being fashionably late."

"Okay, Pete & Sam's, it is…" Vince said, with resolution. He looked at his watch, and stood up. "Did I mention how much I hate Coach Keller right now? I swear, he schedules these meetings for fun."

"Well, Coach Keller isn't the sharpest crayon in the box," I told him, with a shrug. I tapped my chin in thought. "Actually, come to think of it, he's the broken crayon you find in the back in a pack of sixty fours, and you just kind of chuck away."

Vince laughed, a little, "I'll think about that analogy when he makes us run plays over and over. Thanks for setting up this pre-prom date with Lola."

"No problem."

Vince was about to leave, but he stopped at the door, looking at me with somewhat of a sheepish grin. He looked nervous and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Laura, do you know a place where they make purple corsages?"

Oh, Vince. Lola's lucky to love someone like you.

--

_**Week Six: Tuesday**_

"_SURPRISE!"_

_Logan told me to act surprised, but I'm pretty sure when I walked into the lounge afterschool, I was really surprised. Pink and white streamers decorated the lounge, and I felt really special. Either that or my head was getting really big, but I seriously didn't think my baby shower be that widespread. Lola smiled widely and hugged me. _

"_So, do you like it?"_

_Uh, hell yes! _

"_Lola," I started, and looked at everyone. Whoa, even Stacy Dillsen was in on it. I corrected myself. "Everyone, I'm touched you decided to plan this. You guys got me."_

_Even though, Logan sort of hinted at the baby shower, but still, I think they still got me off guard. I'm not that bad of an actress, but I think Zoey saw through my "OMG!" façade. I was surprised, though, but not to the degree they might have wanted. The blonde sighed, putting her hands on her hips. _

"_Logan told you, didn't he?"_

"_Uh…" _

"_Idiot," Lola sighed, and rolled her eyes. You see, if you're dating someone, and you feel like they're being threatened, it's almost a reflex to want to defend them. I understand that because she's dating Logan. I really don't understand why Stacy jumped in, besides the fact that her love for Logan goes unrequited, but the world works weirdly like that. That's the truth._

_Stacy's interjection went unnoticed because it was typical. Quinn's outburst wasn't. Well, outside the walls of my office, it wasn't. _

"_Hey!" Quinn yelled, offended, and then her eyes widened. Her eyes screamed a cross of 'help me!' and 'holy Einstein!'_

_Zoey and Lola looked at her quizzically, before Zoey spoke._

"_Okay, you're doing it again. Why are you defending Logan, when you clearly can see that he embodies idiot?"_

_Ooh, harsh. _

"_She wasn't defending Logan at all," I interjected. "She was just outraged by the lack of vanilla."_

_And I HATE, absolutely cannot stand vanilla-flavored anything. When Vanilla Coke came out, I knew that the world was ending. If your taste buds love Vanilla Coke, okay. Great. But Vanilla Coke is like rape on every little taste bud on my tongue. _

"_I was?"_

_God, Quinn… you're smart, but this is usually the part where you go along with what I say._

"_She was?"_

_I nodded, and smiled, "Yeah. Quinn, don't worry about the vanilla cake. I'm craving chocolate, so it's all good."_

"_Thanks for understanding," she told me, and now her eyes told me 'you're a lifesaver!' I know, I know. I rock hard. Oh, that sounded dirty. I mean, I'm great. She cleared her eyes, looking at Zoey and Lola and even though she kept her voice even, Quinn sounded like she was in pain when she had to insult her own boyfriend. "See, so it was the cake that caught my attention. Besides, Logan's…incompetent and…a jerk."_

"_Right," Lola said, and grinned, her brown eyes lighting up. "Okay, let's get this baby shower started! Yay!"_

_Quinn smiled at me. It was small and discrete, but full one thing. Gratitude. _

_You're welcome._

Week twenty-nine of pregnancy and I'm alive and kicking.

Twenty nine down, and nine weeks to go.

Four days until the big day and there's still there pre-prom fever. Mine has been reduced to a fading case of influenza. For those that don't know, that's the flu. I found myself thinking of Chase a lot more. Not that I don't all the time, but it's just been really powerful. I guess it's because the school year's nearly over. Just yesterday, my dad told me Chase called him.

That's sweet of him.

I miss him a lot, though, and I'm guessing that's why Michael's in my office, looking quite deep in thought. Michael and Chase were best friends, apparently since Chase started to PCA when he was eleven and in the sixth grade. I still remember how psyched he was to go to boarding school. Now, you're questioning why Chase is at boarding school and Robyn isn't.

You're probably wondering why Chase got shipped off, and Robyn got to stay home. It's not fair, blah, blah, blah. Well, that's not how it went down. I'm guessing Chase just wanted to try something new with himself and now I'm glad he did…even though, he's in England. I try not to resent Steven but it's hard and even right now, our relationship is good or bad depending on the day. I'm closer to Ron because he'll like three or four older than me, and we just relate more.

Steven and Phil are closer.

Just last weekend, Phil moved out of Boston to Arizona for the second time. He was there last year, and then moved back to Massachusetts. I don't know how Cheryl can put up with that, but they love each other so it's all good.

And every though, Cheryl's Spanish and Italian, their kids all have greenish hazel eyes, well more green than hazel, but they all look Hispanic. Genetics are weird like that.

That the best dominant family trait. The green eyes, I mean. It seems generic but yeah, that's the Matthews traits, and you have to have a weird formation of freckles or a really weird birthmark somewhere on your body.

I have a bunch of freckles that actually form to be a star on my left arm. Chase would kill me, but he has a birthmark that looks like a dark brown heart on his butt. How do I know this?

His compulsive habit to streak as a toddler.

Now Phil decided that he actually likes Tucson, so he lives there now. Something about comic book appreciation. On top of that, Ron's moving with Annie and Luke to Sacramento so they could be closer to us when I go into the labour. He wants to be there when my due date approaches.

"I just miss him a lot. I remember the first day I met him in the sixth grade. His hair was unusually bushy," he reminisced, a smile on his face. Then he frowned a little bit, his eyes showing pent up frustration and a bit of sadness. It made me guilty, and made me think that I should tell him my secret, so to speak. I mean, Zoey knows. So, why not let his best friend know? He sighed. "I like James. He's a good guy, but I can't help but hope that Zoey and James are over, and somehow break up."

"Right. Because Chase is your best friend and you only want him to be happy…"

Yeah, I know the feeling. You have no idea, Michael.

"This is a flumpy week, Laura," Michael sighed. "It was just hard to have my best friend say out of the blue that he was going to go to England to chase – pun is definitely intended here – a girl across the Atlantic. Surprise, surprise! She's here!"

He sounded like he held a lot of resentment.

Ohhh, I just got the pun thing. Ah, nice play on his name there. Ha.

"Michael, you sound like you hold a lot of resentment," I told him, actually concerned. "You don't have to tell me if you want, but you're welcome to when you feel ready."

"I'm ready to talk. I think if I don't, it's going to eat me up inside…"

I nodded, in understanding, "Well, feel free to vent."

"I've always been the rational one. The one that knew what was up, and I'm even starting an advice column in the PCA Wave for Clackers sake! But I think I do have a lot of resentment. I hold resentment for Zoey because I love her like a little sister, but there were so many hints, so they all went like this," Michael told me, and waved a hand over his head, making a whooshing noise. "And then I blame Chase because he had x amount of chances, and…" he made a slight growling noise.

"You're frustrated because you've just been like the middle man and you've had the brunt of it all…"

"Exactly!" Michael exclaimed. "Honestly, if I didn't have a set of parents, siblings, a grandmother and a girlfriend that loved me, I think I would have just jumped out the nearest window and ended it. In freshman year, he woke me up at two in the morning. It got that bad!"

Crazy, Blinded-by-love Chase in all his glory.

"Oh, wow…"

"Yeah…" he replied, and then smiled a small smile."But I'm glad he's coming back. The_ Chase & Michael Show_ has been on hiatus long enough. You know, there's no Chase & Michael without Chase, you know what I mean?"

And if it makes you guys feel better, I'm one of the few people that watch.

By few, I mean, nine.

But wow, nine. It's whole upgrade from six that watched usually. Better than nothing, right?

Okay, I'll shut up because my analysis of the viewer count isn't helping the situation. I sighed, and I really thought it was one of those situations where it was now or never. I could trust Michael, and it wasn't like I couldn't trust Lola, Logan or Quinn. It was just my reasoning to tell them one by one rather than just throwing it out there, catching them off guard.

"Michael, can I trust you with something?"

"Sure," he shrugged, lightly. "I mean, you listen to us vent about anything and everything."

"Okay," I sighed, and took a deep breath. As I mentioned before, it wasn't really a matter of life and death if everyone knew I was related to Chase. Call it twisted or weird, but it made me feel better. "Michael, I want you to really look at me, and tell me who I resemble. The resemblance might not be there at first glance, but look really hard."

You may think – okay, it IS creepy, but it sounded so much more logical in my head.

I should hit myself. Damn, my head being the sane place? Yeah, not so much. I'll hit myself later.

Michael studied me, almost thoroughly. Come on, Michael. I know you can get those little grey cells or matter…whatever you call them…to piece together the puzzle. You can do it. Push back all thoughts of potato chips (Does it really matter if they're ruffled or not? As long as you can eat 'em, it's all good!) and clackers back, even though you clack blissfully and annoy your roommates.

Come on, Michael. Think like the little train engine that could. See, I'll do it with you.

I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. I think I –

"Hmm, well, you do kind of look like someone. Someone that is quite tight to me…"

You're warm, Michael. You're warm, just like the melted triple chocolate crunch ice-cream I left standing for too long. Damnit.

"I got it!" he exclaimed, getting a grin on his face. "You look like…Evangeline Lily!"

What the hell? I don't know whether to smile and take that as a compliment, or just be confused until my brain hurts. Or at least the area surrounding it greets me with a gentle throbbing.

Oy vey.

"You know Lola got me hooked on _Lost_, and I developed a celebrity crush on Evangeline Lily," he told me and put a finger to his lips. "Don't tell Lisa that, even though she has one on Chris Brown."

You're biting cold, and you're wayyy past giving some frostbite. But I like you anyway.

Now you guys can't say, I didn't try. I tried to tell him. This idea sounded good in my head, I swear.

"Thanks, Michael," I told him, and forced a smile. He didn't see that it was forced. "I'm flattered you think I share a slight resemblance to…Evangeline Lily."

Chase is my nephew. My maiden name is MATTHEWS.

I'm Laura, Chase's biological aunt, as in ACTUAL blood relation!

Phew, glad I got that out of my system.

"No problem, but I gotta bounce. Mr. Bender wanted to see me later about the advice column I'm doing for the paper," Michael said, and slung his orange bag over his shoulder. "Thanks, though. You really made me see two things in perspective. One, you made me see how deep my friendship with Chase really runs. I've come to appreciate him like a 'brother from another mother'"

"And two?"

"You made me appreciate _Lost_ too," he shrugged, and smiled excitedly. "Well, I'm off to see Mr. Bender and then I can show Lisa the sweet car my dad gave me for prom! Thanks for everything. Peace out, Laura!"

Before I could respond, Michael was gone.

"Evangeline Lily, seriously?" I found myself questioning. This was going to irk me for a little while. I knew it was because that's just the way my mind works.

Wow, I'm confused. Flattered, but confused.

--

_**Week Six: Wednesday**_

I have one word to sum up substituting for Pamela's class.

BRUTAL.

This just goes to show you not there isn't that much parental guidance when talking about the birds and the bees. Consummation. Or to put it bluntly, sex. Thank God, she appeared when I was just about to drown in questions.

I bolted the best way someone carrying another little person could.

And when I retreated to the haven to my homey office, I left Torture Ed, and walked right into Zoey looking quite torn again. She sighed, tears building up in her corners of her eyes.

"I'm a terrible person…"

My eyebrows knitted together because I'm severely confused. I mean, last week she realized who she wanted to be with, and now she looks like someone just died.

"Zoey, what's wrong?" I questioned, and offer her a tissue. She gave an almost inaudible sniffle and dabbed at her eyes, getting rid of the clear tears before they actually had a chance to fall. But she looked like she had been doing some crying. A blonde lock of hair was tucked behind her ear. "Last week, you were fine, so what's with the three-sixty change?"

"James told me he loved me with a necklace," she explained. "I mean, I know I want to be with. I know that I love one more than the other, but James is a good guy, but I feel bad because I didn't want to hurt anyone in the first place."

Talk about emotional tailspin. God, if I went on an emotional rollercoaster like Zoey, I'd be so dizzy that I'd want to throw up. I'm surprised she really hasn't, but don't get me wrong. After being in a class full of sexually curious children, I'm not the position or mood to see the remnants of lunch, breakfast and other nasty things.

Her eyes looked desperate, "Can't you just tell me what to do, Laura?"

Aw, Zoey. How could even suggest that I'd tell you what to do? You won't learn that way, sweets.

A smile pulled on my lips, "Zoey, Zoey, Zoey. You'll never learn anything if tell you what to do. My job is like, I don't know, a mama bird with her babies in a nest. When you're old enough, I'll shove you out of the nest – "

" – but I have to flap my 'wings', and fly in the direction that I want to go," Zoey finished, with a sigh and I even got a laugh and smile out of her. I mean, it was a sad smile, but it was also one of slight surrender. "I guess, I'd better stop avoiding James, and actually sit down and talk to him, right? If I don't, I could end up a wingless baby bird."

Don't forget squished. Squished.

"Yeah, that's true," I told her, agreeing with a nod. "Zoey, you'll know what to do. You're smart."

Zoey frowned a little before she smiled, a small smile, "I'm going to go and try to clear my head. Lay down in my dorm or something."

"Sure. I hope everything works out for you."

"Well, with you and your metaphors, I'm crossing my fingers," she told me, trying to give herself some reassurance, I think.

"Take care of yourself, Zoey."

She's going to touch the tub of Ben & Jerry ice-cream. I know she will, so there's no point in telling her not to. Every girl has gone through that binge-on-ice cream. In Coco's case, she goes through binge-on-ravioli-and-pie phase. It's a continuous phase.

"Bye Laura. Wish me luck," Zoey said, as she made her way to the door. "On everything."

"Good luck."

And I really mean that. On both sides of the spectrum.

--

_**Week Six: Thursday**_

"Laura," James called me, running a hand through his blonde hair. His blue eyes looked sad, and I instantly knew what had happened yesterday. "I guess, I could use the ice-cream now."

"Wanna talk about it?"

James laughed quietly, "Do I really have a choice, Laura?"

Well, in the free world, everyone has a choice. You can lie or be a filthy little liar. You can pay taxes or keep some of your money between some of your mattresses or under your bed. But who really does that? Heh. Heh. As for choices, people can ignore the IRS and so on, but I'm tax paying, Democratic American. Okay. Let's just get it straight right now.

And right now, people have to choice to go McCain or Obama.

But with me, not so much.

"Oh, well," I made a so-so motion with my left hand. "Eh. Not so much."

I know I should just bring a video camera with me, because this just pulled a Degrassi move. I was torn because a part of me was happy that Zoey and James was over as a couple because then Chase could just swoop – okay, that's a bit of a stretch, because he sort of stumbles, so to speak – into Zoey's life and date her.

And then they ride off into the sunset, and the end credits roll. End of movie.

And then there's James. All around good guy, and clearly a broken-hearted boy trying to put on a brave face. He was trying not to let it affect him, but for twenty minutes, James told me everything from the necklace he gave Zoey Monday night to Zoey acting weird for the past two days, and then to about two hours ago when it finally happened.

He doesn't deserve to be heartbroken, so I sympathize with him.

"Wow, I don't really know what to say…"

And it's me. I always have to say, even though it's on a completely irrelevant tangent, I might bring it back and tie it back to the subject. I'm going to ramble though, so I'm going to just shut my brain up, even though I can't completely turn it off.

I know I can't. But right now, James has my undivided attention.

In three…two…one.

"Are you going to be okay, though?" I questioned. "I'm really sorry."

"No, I'm not going to lie and say I'm not," he answered, with a shrug, and then gave a sad smile. James, you're a trooper. Really. I commend you. "…but I'll live."

I recommend triple chocolate crunch. Vanilla's gross and I wouldn't even recommend that to my worst enemy.

Not even Julie. I've give her the melted ice-cream. Drink that, bitch! Ha.

…

…

So much for undivided attention.

"You're still going to prom, right? I mean, you can still co-mingle with friends even though you and Zoey are…" I paused, choosing my words. "…you know…"

"Nah," James shook his head. He ran his hand through his blond hair. "And besides, I sort of have to fly home to Colorado. My mom's due date is approaching and she can go into labour anytime, so I need to be there to watch my little brothers. My dad won't be there, and so…yeah. I'd better go pack. Bye Laura."

"Bye James. Take care…"

As I watched him leave, I came to one realization.

I'd recommend James get a Grande size sundae with everything on it.

--

_**Week Six: Friday**_

Last time on the Quinn & Logan Variety Show, we experienced body switching of creepy and slightly hilarious proportions. Firewire's 'nads took a hit, while Quinn had to deal with being a guy.

Cue collective audience gasp.

What will happen this session with prom winding down to…GASP…tomorrow? These questions and more will be answered right now at this very second. I'm your hostess with the most-ess…Laura!

Random thought. Everyone loves a good pair of jazz hands!

Cue for outrageously loud applause. Not to worry, folks. My theme is currently being mixed and produced in my head. I'm almost as good if not better than Oprah. Only difference is I would never give away that many cars. You must think I'm that high strung if I do that. Fingers were being snapped in my face, and studio audience disappeared and I blinked.

"Huh?"

"Laura, did you get trapped in your head again?" Quinn questioned, a smile tugging at her lips. No. Maybe. Possibly. Everybody does it. If you're not entrapped in your head at least once, you're not cool.

"Yes, but it's not about me, and my changing attention span," I answered, quickly. "Prom is tomorrow, and knowing your situation, you're at the right place, so what jam are you in now?"

"Well, here's the deal," Logan explained, looking at his girlfriend beside him. "We had trouble picking our own dates – "

"And let me just clear up for the record that you were going to take Mandy Franklin to prom," Quinn interrupted, with an eye roll. Logan sighed, visibly frustrated. I'm guessing at the whole circumstance collectively and not just one aspect. Logan is known to have quite the short fuse, so Quinn tames him. Not when she's angry too. Then it gets all World War Three up in here.

"And you had to pick out Shirtless Dave! His tan is so fake. At least, I go in actual sun and tan, okay?"

"Well, you decided on the Buchanan twins!" Quinn retorted sharply, with daggers glared at her boyfriend. Clearly they both share jealous tendencies. Under jealousy is a lot of love, though. Again, that sounded really good in my head. This week, my reasoning seems to be jumbled up. No joke.

"Shirley or Jessica?" I questioned, because those girls are freakishly alike, right down to the way the same things at the exact same time. I'm shuddering at the thought. Someone didn't learn something called individuality while growing up.

"Both," Logan muttered, under his breath.

"Wait, you almost took Frenchin' Franklin to the prom?" I asked in genuine shock. Forget the twins! Now, I'm a guidance counselor and I'm naturally built to care about everyone, but good Lord, Logan. Standards, dude! STANDARDS! Quinn grinned widely.

"Frenchin' Franklin. Nice one!"

"Thanks, Quinn," I acknowledged, and rested my cheek in the palm of my hand. Erin was moving around a lot. I was used to it, and it made me realize I had roughly nine weeks until I was a mother. It's pretty mind boggling. "But I'm getting the feeling that that's just the tip of the iceberg, or glacier. Whatever you want to call it. Did you finally settle on dates, since you couldn't take each other?"

Unfortunately.

"Yeah, and I can't even take the girl I want," Logan sighed, and combed his hand through his hair. "I'm taking Stacy Dillsen, okay? Stacy. Dillsen."

HOLY. FREAKING. JONAS.

I curse like a sailor, but I'm trying to cut back. I happen to have the Jonas Brothers in my head. Don't ask why.

This is an SOS, don't wanna second guess, this is the bottom line it's –

Must not get entangled in random thought again.

"Do I even want to know who your date is?" I questioned, apprehensive for Quinn. She fidgeted a little and frowned, shaking her head.

"No, you don't want to know, but I'll tell you anyway. Dustin. Dustin is my date…"

Zoey's little brother, Dustin. But doesn't he already like a girl? You know? One is own age. I mean, Sienna is thirteen, and this is just…plain twisted.

I blinked in shock, "Zoey's little brother, Dustin? You know, eighth grader about this tall?"

"Yes. That Dustin," Quinn told me as if in pain. Wow, girl. I feel your pain. Yours too, Logan.

"Hey, well, right now, I don't really know what to say date wise, but it's not like you two are completely powerless. Obviously, you two are one of the most unlikely to ever date, but you're totally in tune with each other," Quinn and Logan looked at each other, sharing soft smiles. I swear, it's like they practically glowed when together. Logan took Quinn's hand, interlacing the fingers together. "You have the power to tell people. I don't know how it's going to go down, but I wish you guys the best."

"So, Quinn? Wanna make out?" Logan questioned, after a moment's silence. My eyebrows shot up. "I found us a quiet, romantic spot."

Quinn smiled, "You're a special guy, you know that?"

"Uh, yeah. I always knew that I was one in a million," he replied in that trademark cocky tone of his, and then he softened, pressing his lips to her cheek. "But you telling me that makes me feel like the luckiest dude ever."

Cue collective audience, "AWW!"

These two were just so cute, it was ridiculous. I playfully shooed them away, "Okay, okay. Go do what you gotta do, you lovebirds."

They stood up, and were about to conveniently sneak away when I had one question burning in my mind.

I mean, I needed a second or even third opinion.

"Wait!" I called. The couple looked at each other before looking at me. I smiled, sheepishly. Depending on the answer, I would probably have to change my prenatal vitamins because of the hidden side effect. "I have a question for guys."

"Okay." Quinn answered. "What's up?"

Here it comes. The question of the hour. And it's NOT me asking how they get the white stuff in between Oreo Cookies. I gave up on that. I don't think I'll ever know.

"Do I look _anything_ like Evangeline Lily?"

* * *

**A/N: It's all over. WHOOOO! Next chapter will be the major prom chapter that I've been itching to write since I started this fic in April. I can't believe it's almost finished. But I do have a sequel in the works so don't worry. I want to thank EVERYONE that reviewed and left comments. This story gave me the chance to explore deep within myself, and I LOVED writing this funny character, Laura. She's probably my favourite OC to date. This is the longest chapter I've written. Nearly 7,000 words. Now that I've given you this chapter, I'm ****off to work on All Year Round, and the last chapter of Letters To You. Easy As ABC in progress with the third and final installment, so keep an eye out for those. I'm going crash for the night, because it's two in the morning and writing this have finally made me sleepy, so until we meet again in the morning, goodnight! For story tracking and updates, visit my profile. I always have new updates and messages there. **

**Reviews would be nice to get in the morning. Please and thank you. Let's keep the momentum going people! You can do it! Sorry if the show and story don't match up as well. I tried my hardest. **

**-Erika**


	7. Prom Day

**A/N: Here's the chapter of Guidance we've already to waiting for. I'm so happy to write this chapter finally, and I finally know how I'm going to write the epilogue of this story! I'm so excited that you have no idea. YAY! As I said, this chapter will be longer than the others. And that's saying something since all of the chapters of this story are considerably long. And on a sad note, we've lost one of the best comedians in the world, Bernie Mac. I'm kinda sad. But yeah, on a happy note, here's the next chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, Zoey 101 isn't in my possession. Oh, iCarly isn't mine either. Read and you'll know why. Neither is anything you may be familiar with. I'm glad we established that.**

* * *

**Guidance**

**Prom Day: Saturday**

* * *

_**Part One: Day**_

Of all the things to be doing at nine in the morning on a Saturday morning, I chose to flip through my television while snacking on a bowl of Cheerios and sliced strawberries for breakfast. I can't rely on any other cereal to be honest. The leprechaun of Lucky Charms annoys me, Trix just irritates me. I mean, did those kids ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, the rabbit was hungry too? When I watched the Trix commercials when I was a kid, I was just hoping the rabbit would go berserk and just go through rounds and rounds of bullets, or just use a machete.

Like Rambo.

I always pictured the white rabbit, grabbing the bowl of cereal from one of the dead kids, and he'd say something like, "Yeah, I may be a silly rabbit, but you're dead, suckas! I own Trix now, bitch!"

I just realized I wasted a good chunk of time, rambling about the reliance of classic cereals. At least in a box of Cheerios, there isn't some stupid prize I end up putting in my mouth. Like Phil's novelty mini glow stick thing.

And for my random fact of the day, this one happened to be when I was four. I tried sticking Jelly Beans up my nose, and cried to my dad and started freaking out when it got stuck. Apparently, it was all sticky. Daddy always has a solution – he made me sneeze, and according to him, the jellybean shot out of my nose and hit Phil in the forehead. Snot and all.

Just thinking about that made me laugh, especially now that I saw it happen. Ah, the magic of home videos. And you could hear my mom telling Phil to go wash up for dinner with my booger covered candy still on his forehead.

Mmhmm, I love my Honey Nut Cheerios.

Bringing another spoonful of cereal to my mouth, Dora The Explorer happened to be on, and Gary walked in, amusement in his voice when he sat beside me.

"Dora, Dora, Dora, the Explorer…" the television sang with that theme song. I don't get this show at all, but I'm way too comfortable to move and change the channel.

"Why are we watching Dora The Explorer?" my husband asked with a small laugh. I smiled, and kissed him before answering.

"I can't give a decent answer to that right now. You ever think that Dora could be a kids'-version of an illegal immigrant, involved in criminal business?"

The show's like a car crash, and the 2 Girls 1 Finger video on the internet – terrible but you can't look away. Let me just say that that video, that god-awful video, traumatized me. It's not own fault for being curious and making a reaction video with Leah and Stan.

Gary wasn't home, and it was raining. And I was bored. That pretty much explains it.

But my reaction video is one of the most popular on YouTube.

And that was a year and a half ago.

My husband rested his hand on my protruding belly, and since my cereal was soggy, I didn't want it anymore. Seriously, eating a bowl of soggy cereal to me, is like feeding yourself a bowl of milk-covered loogies. Uh, gross. Gary looked at me, a confused look on his face. Why is he confused? My random questions are the reasons why he loved me – oh, and the whole cute, spunky, personality thing. We were complete opposites. Gary was reserved, neat, and an all around quiet guy. He was painfully shy, and a bit of a lovable flirt. Well, he's _my_ lovable flirt. Me, well, I was loud, crazy, quite brash, and didn't care if it wasn't "lady-like" to belch. I grew up with three brothers. What do you expect?

And I'm a bit of a messy person. I'm hygienic, yes, but I'm quite unorganized. My desk at work is like the rainforest with papers and things all over, and growing from the corners of my desk. But I can find things, and I'm content. Therefore, the world is functioning with total harmony.

I still think Dora The Explorer should be featured on a fictional episode of America's Most Wanted.

"Swiper, no swiping. Swiper, no swiping!"

"Aw, man!"

"Okay, so you really think Dora is some kind of child drug peddler?" Gary answered me, in the form of a question. "And an illegal immigrant?"

I laughed, snuggling into him, gesturing to the little orange fox on my television, "Um, yeah. The fox is obviously border patrol, and they have her accomplice as a monkey for censorship reasons. Baby, you think they're going show a five year old, running around with thugs?"

"No," he laughed, and pecked my cheek. "You realize that we'll have these shows on, almost everyday in a couple of months, right?"

"I'm more of a _Blues Clues_ girl. We'll see."

No, we won't. Classic Sesame Street all the way. Forget Dora and her thug monkey.

Chase Matthews fact number one: he has a phobia of clowns and Elmo. The clown thing was sort of always there, but the Elmo thing – well, that was my fault. I kind of traumatized him when he was like, ten. I can do a perfect impression of Elmo, so I called in this overly nice and slightly psychotic Elmo voice I was like, "Elmo loves you, but Elmo's gonna get you."

He declares Tickle Me Elmo evil, and has a theory that by day, they giggle and dance robotically, but by night, they all go psychotic and use Cookie Monster's cookies as ninja stars.

Gary sighed, running a hand through his hair and sighed, "My mom said I just had to go see my Aunt Rosie. She's likes to pinch cheeks really hard. And she's drunk fifty percent of the time. Apparently, my mom sort of leaked out that you were due in a couple months."

"Just fifty? Um, she had a panic attack when the bottle of champagne she was drinking was almost finished, and she was just tipping sobriety," I returned, with a raised eyebrow, when I punched the off button.

We agreed that she'd find out after I'd gone through the labour pains, and I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Maybe by the time she actually saw Erin, she'd be crawling, and attempting to walk.

My math sucks, so calculating, while I carry the one, and two…

Yeah, a good year ought to do it. But I love Gary enough to tolerate the sister out for my blood, and the nice aunt who seems to be the best friend of the dude who manages the LCBO across the street from her house.

"I told her I'd go see my aunt when I'm good and ready, but she's making me drive an hour to pay her a visit."

"How?" I wanted to know. "She does realize that you're a grown person, right?"

"Yes, she does. Even though she scolds me for not tucking in my shirt, etcetera, etcetera. She threatened to bring us all back to the house, after the restaurant so we could try her new recipe."

I cringed. I'm not just saying that for narrative purposes. I actually cringed, remembering the peanut butter mashed potatoes, and the turnip and broccoli pie. Jerry knows how to cook, thankfully. His spaghetti and meatballs were amazing. But the two "foods", I mentioned before is just the prime example of abuse of perfectly good things that are merged to make an – I'm sorry, Susan. I love you but I have to put it out there – abomination to the culinary world.

If my tongue had eyes and tear ducts, it'd be crying. But Susan knitted the cutest pair of pink booties, so I guess her rockin' knitting balances out the…horrible cooking.

I held up a hand, shaking my head in the _no_ motion, "As much as I love your mother, and as sweet as she is, her cooking, well, isn't. So go see your aunt before we're forced to feed her food to the dog. I even feel bad for doing that. It's animal cruelty."

"Rufus runs whenever Mom's in the kitchen," Gary laughed, as he stood.

Ah, smart collie. If I didn't think he was a boy, I would have mistaken him for a girl collie like Lassie.

"Wait, you didn't have any breakfast."

"I know," he explained, and yawned slightly. "I have a lot of things to do, before we go over to my parent's for dinner and then we'll swing over to PCA for the prom thing. Then today's the day I can finally put Erin's crib together. The walls are painted and decorated but it looks kinda of bare, so I can take care of that. I'll pick up a muffin, and some coffee on the way or something. Don't you have stuff to do too?"

Well, I'm gonna rearrange Erin's clothes, and growing shoe or footwear collection in general. Don't question it, but I like to think that my daughter will develop a love for footwear, like me. Gary often wonders where the extra shoes come from. But I'm happy; I'll have someone to go shoe shopping with. Even though, she'll be an infant and probably will be napping in her stroller.

But I'm gonna have so much fun with my daughter.

I took the bowl of leftover Cheerios – it was a sin not to eat the strawberries, so I ate those – and dumped the milk and soggy mess down the drain before I turned the faucet on, and was washing the bowl.

"Ah, well. I'm gonna drive to the store, and pick up green olives, and then I'm going to get mani-pedis with Leah. And then, I'm having lunch with Steve...or talking. Either or," I told him. I know I absolutely hate green olives. Drying the bowl with a dish rag, I put the bowl back in the top cabinet.

Today is obviously a good day or I wouldn't even consider having lunch with my brother. Or talking about anything deep enough to be considered an actual conversation.

It's a good day, for me at least. Chase is coming home from England, and I once again, prove that I'm right. Ha, in your face, Steve!

"Baby, don't you hate – " Gary started to question, and then his mouth took on the shape of an o, and he instantly understood. "You're craving olives now, so does that mean you're off your chocolate kick?"

I shrugged, "You know? I don't really know. Maybe, maybe not. The hormones are just putting me on this rollercoaster, and I cannot wait until it's over."

"Yeah, me too. I'm gonna have a little girl to protect, and I get the privilege of making her first boyfriend cry. I'm honored to do that," he told me, grabbing his keys of the island counter in our kitchen. He came up from behind, while I took care of the sink.

Remember when I said I was a slob? Yeah, well, just like my potty mouth and road rage, I'm trying to cut back on that too. Talk about multi sacrificial. Gary kissed me, and even I'm pregnant, he manages to be the goofy flirt, mentioned above. He tapped my butt, making me giggle, and then he kissed me when I turned around to meet his face.

We're making out in the kitchen. I wish I didn't have all that stuff planned, and today was just one of the Saturdays where everything was so slow, and so quiet that we didn't have to do a thing. But you know, life is a…mudderfudder (see, told you I had to cut down?).

Life's curveball came in the form of the cordless phone, ringing sharply on said counter, and made us pull away.

**Insert string of censored, and just downright dirty words here. **

"It's Leah," I concluded, looking at the little screen on the phone. I kissed Gary goodbye, letting it linger before separating. "I'll see you later. Love you."

"Love you more," Gary replied, flashing me a smile before leaving. I could hear him opening his car door being opened and then shut. I pressed the answer button, as the wheels were heard peeling away down into the road somewhere.

"Lee, you know I love you, but you have bad timing!" I scolded, only half-joking. Walking out of the kitchen, I walked up the staircase, forgetting my purse was in the master bedroom. I really didn't have any make up, and man, did my nails need an intervention.

I like doing my nails because then I can't bite on them, get it? I'll be chewing the plastic crap, and I don't wanna do that.

Anyway, let's get off my compulsive nail biting habit.

Leah and I go way back, almost twenty years. We became friends over a sandwich at ten years old.

Not in the way that you'd expect. She actually tried to steal my sandwich, so I thumped her, and we both got in trouble. The next day, she thumped me back, and we shared lunch. Then we met Stan when we were eleven, and we've been The Three Musketeers.

And then when we were twelve, our moms signed up for dance, and we met Anna, Thomas, and Bella. Thus, the six of us formed our own dance group, Fatality. I hang out Anna, Thomas, and Bella whenever I can because Thomas is travelling artist, and Anna owns the gallery and happens to his wife.

Bella, I try at least once a month. We need a reunion soon. Before I give birth, that is.

After's good, I guess.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You're busy with the hubby," I heard her reply. "But now it's Laura & Leah time, even though Gary's a sweetie. And I have something to tell you, so hurry up and get dressed. I'm picking you up for mani-pedis."

"Really? Where are you?"

"In your driveway. I'm gonna honk in like two minutes if you're not down."

"You know, you still have issues with your bossiness, right?" I told my friend, only half-joking. Leah could be bossy, but at least she's holding down the fort with the weekend dance classes, I usually teach so I owe that much at least.

"And you love me for it."

And there was a honking noise heard outside my window. In Leah Standard Time, two minutes is whenever she feels like it. The time she runs by is pretty much here, there, and everywhere.

"I'll see you in the next thirty seconds. Later," and I hung up, dropping the phone in the middle of the king sized bed. Ah, whatever. Any messages will be picked up by the answering machine. That's why it's there.

There was a loud honking.

Checking out my hair and clothes – I love the vintage tee I'm wearing. Robyn got this one for me, and it says, Twinkle Toes, on it. Pretty fitting since I dance, but so does she.

I think that all I'm going to be doing to loose the baby weight. Just dance, and take up another hobby like kick boxing or something. I'm the type of person to get bored, real fast. I came downstairs, and exited my house, locking the front door. The convertible was to signify Leah, meaning she was actually here. She was always blonde, with her hair being streaked a different colour, always.

We had pretty much the same personality, so we were just two balls of randomness, and nonsensical stuff that made sense to us. She's dating this guy, Robert. I've only met him a couple of times anyway, but he's good to her. Opening the passenger door, I slipped in the best I could with my now bulging belly.

Honestly, it feels like I've been inflating, forever and ever. I might have gained a good forty pounds here. But it's all good.

Leah was blonde haired, and blue eyed, while I was brown haired, green eyed.

"So, what's this thing you had to tell me? Sounded pretty big," I said, upon entering. Her eyes met mine briefly before she started the door, and began to drive.

"Laura, men are so difficult. Seriously, it must be the testosterone or something, but we've been dating for nearly a year and a half. You think Robert would like get the hint now, but he doesn't," we reached a red light, and the car stopped. She rolled her eyes, and laughed. "I think he wants _me_ to get on my knee."

I know. I know. I have a gutter mind, okay? It represses itself whenever, but that sounded –

"Laura, get your head out of the gutter!"

So, she saw the smile I'm trying to hide.

"Sorry, Lee," I told her, still laughing. She drove when the light turned green. "So, you're getting all wound up because Robert hasn't proposed to you yet?"

"Yes! I don't know? What is he? Afraid of commitment?"

I'm feeling psychologically analytical right now.

Maybe because my dance minor couldn't drown Professor Langley as he droned on and on about the importance of Aristotle, Socrates, and more recently Sigmund Freud. Okay, so Freud isn't recent, but still. His psychology was actually pretty deep. I didn't even know there was such a thing as _Oedipus Complex_ – where a daughter is more attached to her father, and a son is more attached to his mother.

I read the Oedipus thing, mildly, and then the incest aspect of it grossed me out so much.

Like, I was literally on the brink of throwing up and made my parents write me a note saying I was too "intellectually impaired" to read the play any further.

So again, I borrowed the pop-up book from the library and watched the play in movie form before I actually was able to tolerate the whole concept. Let me tell you right now, pop-up books carried me through high school. There's the drama, romance, but…eww…

The incest thing is still disgusting. Twist the play anyway you like, my friend.

BUT THAT SHIT IS GROSS!

I don't care if you're gay, transgender, whatever, but as soon as you walk in and tell me you nailed your cousin or something of that degree, I can't help you. I **won't** help you.

NO. FREAKING. WAY.

Because your tendencies towards relationships are screwed.

And I'll probably look at you like you have five extra heads, even though I'm supposed chill and easy going like, "Aww, okay. It was a moment of weakness. If you want to bang your cousin, then it's your prerogative. Screw away!"

Maybe. But I'll use a bunch of big words. Doesn't mean I won't be thinking it, though.

I was tying this to Sigmund Freud and the whole psychology thing, and Leah's distress over why her seemingly great boyfriend has increased their status from mere relationship to engaged. I added the word "seemingly" but I don't know the dude well enough.

He could be a pedophile or an ex-con for all I know. Sorry Leah, no offense.

"Maybe," I offered, and then sighed. She hates being psychoanalyzed, but as her best friend I feel that I should just tell her what I'm thinking. That's what made mine and Leah's friendship stronger – pure and sometimes quite brutal honesty. We were at the nail salon, but she parked, forgetting we had our nails and feet to get over with. "But maybe, you are too. I mean, marriage is like the biggest step, and maybe you're a tad freaked you'll mess up or something."

"You're doing that psychobabble crap again. Stop it!" she cried, almost exasperated. "Did you not get the whole point of my rant? My engagement ring finger is void of a ring! I deserve a tan line!"

And then she calmed down.

"I just want to settle down. I mean, look at you. You're married and you're having your first kid. Even Stan – mind you, this is the same kid I made put a hose down his pants when we were thirteen – is settling down with…" her face took on a look of disgust and she cringed. "Veronica. What a wiotch!"

"True that."

Veronica is Stan's fiancée, and like Leah, I also got bad vibes from her.

I can't hate her outwardly for two reasons: Stan loves her like crazy, and two, she charms her way into everything. You know when someone is just so nice that it starts being annoying because it's a front? Yeah, that's how I feel about it. Usually, I want to slap her, but I swallow my damn pride and smile back. If I do that again, my face will have permanent nerve damage and then I'll sue her fake ass if there's anything medically wrong.

"Honey, he loves you, trust me," I assured, looking her in the eyes. She smiled a small smile, and laughed a little at what I said next. "Sometimes, you just gotta 'dumb it down' a little. He'll propose, okay?"

"Okay, but – "

"No!" I instantly cut in, stopping her. "No interjections. He's gonna propose, and I call matron of honour. I mean, Gary and I were talking about it the other night, and came to the conclusion that a lot of people were going to be involved in Erin's life and she's going to have two sets of godparents since we couldn't come up with just one. So, from my side, I chose you and Stan."

Her eyes instantly lit up as soon as I told her and it looked like she was about to cry.

"Ohmygosh! Are you serious? I get to be Erin's godmother?" she questioned, and wiped her happy tears away, while laughing through them. "God, I hate you. You made me cry, damnit. But seriously, I'm honoured."

"Okay, and I'm glad you accept. Just don't stress about this proposal thing, okay?"

"So, this is how it is at work for you. Are the kids really nutbars?"

Well, some more than others. Their lives are just really complicated, and maybe, just maybe, tonight will make things less complicated. I can't stop thinking about James, though. He's been kicked to the curb and like shoved out in the cold. Ironic because sometimes California is hot as hellfire itself. I hope he wore his helmet and used Ben & Jerry's as a parachute.

Doesn't make it better, but at least it softens the blow.

"Yeah," I answered, with a small smile tugging at my lips, when I remembered these past six weeks, especially. So much drama. Logan. Quinn. Zoey. James. Michael. Lisa. Vince. Lola. Chase, and even Dustin and Sienna. "They're nutbars, but they're all _my_ nutbars and I love them dearly."

"Ah, gotcha. So Stan called me this morning and said he was busy house hunting with Veronica."

"So?"

"What do you mean 'so?' I know I've ripped on Stan for years, but I did that because I cared about the dork. I swear, it's like ever since they started going out, Veronica cut off his nuts and turned him into a total dipwad. I mean, I know Stan's never been cool," I gave her a look when she said this. "Oh, come on. Don't look at me like that. He was your boyfriend, like ten years ago, but I didn't like this chick when they started, and now I know it's not pointless, and I can shove the bitch down the stairs at any given time."

I raised an eyebrow.

Okay, something must've happened. Ugh. Why am I always the last one to know these things?

Then again, I'm the first, but still…

Leah sees things, but doesn't tell me fast enough. Hello, Lee, that's the whole best friend concept!

"Laura, our boy is gettin' is heart played, but he is so blinded by her, it's ridiculous!"

My eyes widened, and my jaw nearly hit the floor of her car. Say WHAT?!

"Are you implying what I think you're implying, Lee? Because if my implication senses are functioning properly, I believe you're telling me that Veronica is having another fling outside the relationship," I had to clarify just to make sure.

"I'm not trying to tell you anything! I just flat out told you that Veronica is cheating on Stan with another guy. I saw it last weekend. The weekend you hung out with your dad, right? So Robert and I were having a good time, being all romantic, and stuff, and then Robert said he needed to use the bathroom and he left," she started explaining. "So, while Robert left, Veronica shows up with this tall, quite fine looking dude. My man's fine, but this guy…damn. She has good taste in men, I won't argue with her there."

"Hey, hey!" I snapped my fingers in her face to prevent her from zoning her. I can't deal with her goldfish attention span now. What the hell? Is infidelity supposed to be…hot? "I need to know about the rest of the story, and you have a boyfriend already. Focus, here!"

I'm not stressing myself or Erin at all. But as soon as I get this kid outta me, Veronica's face is going into the ground. I'm just being really chill about it, like as if there were another painful staff morning. Every third Monday.

Every **freaking** thrid Monday.

All I have to do is imagine that Eleanor is a nice, quite beautiful but irritating Hispanic woman.

Which is hard, because she's like gum on my shoe. Well, ballet flat.

"Yeah, I was at the part where she walks in with the mystery dude, and they sat at like two tables away from us. They were having a good time, and giggling – yes, the flirty giggle and everything. Hair flipping, included – so I didn't think anything of it at the time. I thought it was like her brother or something and they were catching up and stuff…"

"And then what happened?" I pressed. Oh come on! What did Stan ever do to you?!

Leah shook her head, "What happened next made me wish that the dude was her brother. Because unless you have this twisted turn on for incest, nobody in their right mind would french their own brother the way Veronica stuck her tongue down that mystery dude's throat."

I think my eyes were mere seconds from actually falling out of its sockets.

You know there will be the very few people that will read this, and think, "Oh God, she'll have no eyes afterwards. Ohemgee!"

That was figurative. The eyes to socket thing.

But seriously, this is so bad, and we should probably tell Stan.

"We should tell Stan that Veronica's a serial frencher," I pointed out, as we got of the convertible and I slammed the passenger side of the car. Leah shrugged, pointing the little car remote.

"I know!" my best friend exclaimed. "That is so…so…"

I know. I'm not even attempt to describe how wrong this is. See, in saying that, I attempted it.

"This is so wrong," I sighed, brushing the bangs from my eyes. My hair was clipped up, because today was actually a pretty hot day. Hopefully, this evening will be perfect weather for prom night.

"Yeah, _jank_ even."

Linking arms, like old times in Boston, we walked in and gave her a look, "Wow, you've been watching iCarly again, haven't you?"

"Yeah, and even though I'm happy with Robert, I can't but get a celebrity crush on Spencer Shay," Leah admitted, smiling sheepishly. "He's twenty-six. So it works out. He's so artsy and quirky."

"Same old, Leah."

"What?" she questioned, when I sighed, and shook my head. I only smiled.

"Nothing, Lee."

"Okay, then," she concluded, then her eyes light up, when she saw a bottle of sparkly silver and cool lavender nail polish on the display. "Let's go get beautified!"

_Mandy Franklin was in my office. The question is: why? Oh, and look at that, her cold sore – _

_Okay, minor blemish if you want to get technical, has faded. _

_She snapped her gum, twirling a lock of bleach blonde around her finger, and I'm wondering why the hell she's actually in my office. I mean, it's not professional of me and I should be accepting of all who come and basically vent to me. _

_Because I'm probably the closest thing to Dr. Phil there is. _

_Maybe._

_I don't know. I'm thinking of too many things at the same time. I should get that fixed somehow. _

"_Okay, so I don't want to be here, but you know," she began talking, and rolled her eyes. She shrugged, her straight hair falling down. Well, at least the off the shoulder top she was wearing was cute. "I have problems, and apparently I'm supposed to come here, and talk, right?"_

_It doesn't help that I'm slightly cranky today. I got no sleep last night, because my back hurt all night._

_So, this doesn't help me at all. Of all days for PCA's Tonsil Hockey Champion to be referred here, it has to be this one. I can hear my dad's voice right now. _

"_You're my trooper, Jellybean." _

_Daddy, I don't want to be a trooper now. I'm a sleepy, well-kept mess. Paradox, I know._

"_Yeah, I'm the guidance counselor," I replied, shortly. Or did you miss the sign on the door with GUIDANCE COUNSELLOR clearly written on it? "I'm Laura Whitman, said guidance counselor."_

"_Oh, 'kay," Mandy said, and then snapped her gum again. If there is any justice in this world, she'll breathe funny and somehow swallow that wad in her mouth. That's the nice way of saying I hope she eventually chokes, and then shallows the wad of gum. "I have a problem, and I want you to make it better."_

_Yes, because I'm a genie. And clearly, I have a lamp in which everyone rubs, and…POOF. _

_I look like something out of __**I Dream of Jeannie**__, and grant you three wishes. _

_And then there's a happy ending in which we all hold hands in a circle and sing a public domain like Kumbayah._

_Well, where the hell are my three wishes?! _

_I'm not denying, however, that I'd make an awesome genie. _

"_I'll try and see what I can do, Mandy," I told her, simply. "So, what's this problem?"_

"_So, last week, I had this strange thing with Logan Reese. Once a week, he comes by for his usual five o'clock make-out session behind the English Building. Because he's so scrumptious, I don't have any feelings for him, but I hit on him – "_

_Usually, I can listen to stories like this, because it amuses and I get a laugh or two out of it. _

_But I have Erin kicking up a storm this morning, and I'm just burnt out. You have no idea. I learned something today: Pregnancy is no joke, especially when you're inching closer and closer to your due date. I hope I go through today, because as soon as I get home, I'm going to bed._

_I can't listen to this novel. Not today. _

"_You think you can give me the short version?"_

"_I'm not boring you, am I?"_

_I don't know if you are, but I hope you caught on to the fact that I'm irritated. And I'm getting even more so every time the little red second hand ticks by. _

"_No, not at all, but as you said, you probably don't want to be here, so I'm actually saving you time, if you condense the story a bit."_

_Or a lot._

_Ha, what a load of bullshit. But she bought it because I'm just that subtle._

_Mandy's face went into one of those thoughtful faces, before she brightened up, "That's so true, Laurie!"_

"_Laura."_

"_Close enough, right?"_

_Lord, give me the patience and the strength to endure this. If you are up there, you will listen, and not allow me to act on this migraine I'm feeling in my head. It honestly feels like some retarded imaginary construction worker is taking a jackhammer to my temples._

_And enjoying it. He's a figment of my imagination and a psychopath? Can someone say double standard? _

"_Sure, whatever floats your boat," I assured, through a fake smile. "After all, we're human, right?" _

_And this human being carrying ANOTHER human being wants to get away from you as far as possible._

_Trust me. It'll benefit everybody._

While Leah was off making friends with complete strangers because she's freakishly friendly like that, I was getting my pedicure. My manicure actually came out beautifully. They gave me the classic French white tips, but they put the craziest red and gold pattern on them.

Honestly, my manicure was insanely good. I'm pulling a term from the Michael Barrett-English Dictionary and say that my nails are drippin'.

The pedicure is like…sex for the feet. I've gotten pedicures a lot of times, so that description would be accurate.

Anyway, let me take you through a little something called Pedicures & You 101.

The crash course in the awesomeness that is the pedicure.

Before I start, let me just say this: I CAN SEE MY FEET!

Well, I caught a glimpse of them while getting my feet all taken care of. By the looks of it, they're happy feet.

Ha. Happy Feet. I loved those dancing penguins.

Oh, right. Pedicures.

So first they stick your feet in this tub of water and this aromatherapy soap. I don't know what it's called but it smells amazing. I'll get the proper name, I promise. After your feet kind of simmer (ohh, and the tub has these small turbo jets on the sides so the water bubbles). After a while, your feet are dried off with a towel, and right now, my feet are removed of the dead skin. The skin on the bottom of my feet. Just the layer on top.

That's not so drippin'. Actually, it's pretty gross, but the scrapping is pretty soft and soothing.

I knew there was a reason I did this every two weeks.

The gross phase is over, and now I'm having my feet lotioned.

"You know, I could paint your toes to match your nails."

The lady smiled, nicely, and I couldn't help but notice she had this exotic look. I had the money, but I really didn't want to spend anymore. Oh, come on. I think everyone's entitled to be cheap. There's a difference between being cheap and being stingy. And besides, I have to run to the store and pick up those gross green olives. I hate them, but it's like, I have no control over what my body does. Eating included. Last week, I even ventured to mix peanut butter and jelly together – I hate that so much – and didn't gag like usual.

And we were out of smooth peanut butter so I had to resort to using chunky.

I usually can't bring myself to use chunky peanut butter. I'm not just saying that because I'm pregnant. Seriously, chunky peanut butter is like…peanut-tasting puke.

Ew. Ew. Ew. EW!

My head practically screamed, "Drop that sandwich! The merge is peanut butter and jelly is terrible!"

My body drowned out the signals in my brain, regarding the olives and the peanut and jelly sandwich, "You'll eat what I tell you!"

I focused my attention to the woman offering a small smile that basically questioned if I wanted my toes to co-ordinate with my newly done nails. She's even got bottles of red and gold nail polish. On the bright side, it'll tie the dress and its accessories together.

"Uh, I'd love that, but I don't think I can pay extra. Sorry."

"No, I won't charge you extra, hun," she replied, shaking her head adamantly. And then she smiled gently at me, her eyes twinkling. "I know how hard having a baby can be. I have five of my own."

"Okay, one. Thank you. And two, how did you manage five children? It's my first pregnancy and I'm ecstatic, but I'm scared I'll screw up. My name's Laura, by the way."

"Angela," she introduced, and began to decorate my toe nails. Apparently, she was happy to do it, and we began to talk. Her bangs fell over her face, as her face looked deep in thought, but she responding to my question, turning my toenails into little canvases. "Ah, well, I actually have two sets of multiples. The triplets are about twelve, and my twins are eight. I'm Chinese, so my family considers that good luck. My husband's Cuban, though."

I nodded my head in understanding, while trying to keep my feet still, "Yeah, I heard something about that. Multiples are actually considered good fortune. I read that somewhere."

Wow, China's communism goes as far as to say it's one child per family. I heard that somewhere.

So, what? Do they just not have sex ever? Or do they put the parents under some time limit between initial contact, foreplay and then the actual…thing? I don't need an answer to this. Seriously, don't give me answer or I'll go back to when I was six and annoyed.

The classic plugging of the ears followed by, "LALALALALALALALA!"

Or I burst out into song – preferably, show tunes. I know the whole _Growing Pains_ theme song too. Leonardo DiCaprio was so cute back then, and then after _Titanic_, he lost his cuteness. I'm sorry.

So, seriously, I'm telling you people right now, not to go do actual research on this, or the above will take place. And it won't be pretty.

Angela sighed, and then shrugged, "Ah, well, communism stinks, and so does global warning, y'know?"

"I hear you."

Global warning does suck, and will eventually kill us all. Even if someone lived, we wouldn't be able to move to Mars because the planet can't support life. Maybe it can, because I don't think we'd be driven to just saltwater, or the small deposits of it. Oh, and Jupiter's out of the question too. All that gas can't be great, and the gravity on Jupiter will crash us. It's triple Earth's gravity.

So, if you think gas just makes the planet weightless, then you're sadly mistaken.

"So, how many months pregnant?"

I smiled proudly, "Seven months with a little girl. Well, twenty-nine weeks if you wanna get technical."

"That's great. Good luck," Angie told me, looking up and put the little drawing utensil away. She used some kind of stencil to doodle on my toenail. "And there. I'm all finished. Take a look."

Oh. My. God.

I loved the way the two merged together, and on my big toes, she used the red and the gold to make little flowers. I'm glad I wore flip-flops, because now I can show off my toes. Swinging my toes, Angela directed me to small drying area where a small fan was placed at my feet. The air blew around my toes, slightly tickling me. I'm ticklish in the oddest of places. And the place changes periodically. I've lost count.

"Thanks," I said, gratefully, and went digging into my purse, and came up with forty dollars. I would have used my platinum credit card, but I'm trying to build a good credit score, and I don't trust myself. "Here's forty."

"I was going to charge you thirty-five."

"I know," I replied. "And you're awesome for doing that, but here, I insist."

"Laura – "

"Please," I begged, with a smile. I almost had to smile because Erin's kicked me, and I really felt that. It was second nature for me to rub my belly just to calm her down. I can already tell that she'll have a big, sparkly personality.

"You drive a hard bargain," Angela told me, in a playfully serious tone, and then smirked. "It's been about ten minutes, so you can go. I think your friend is getting restless, but she's entertaining the customers, I think," she added, jerking a thumb behind her.

My eyes followed the direction of said thumb and my jaw slightly dropped.

You know, I've always wondered if Leah had some kind of compulsive 'Do-the-running-man' disorder.

But then I realized that this is Leah Douglas. Unreal, unscripted and uncut.

Slipping on my flip-flops, and adjusting the strap on my purse, I walked over and grabbed her by the arm before she launched into the Robot. She squeaked a little, and then waved to her 'fans', before we were outside.

"Hey, I was bored. See, this is why I got my toes done and then my nails…" she trailed off, catching sight of my nicely done nails, adorned with red and gold art. She took my hands, and looked at them. I don't blame her. It's not hard to miss. And then she looked at my toes peeking through my flip-flops. "Your nails totally rock!"

"I'm feeling the purple and silver, though. Nice combo," I complimented, and we were about to start our secret handshake and then we stopped. "Nails."

"Right," she realized, and started the car. I buckled up, and Leah pulled out of the driveway, going down the road.

In the span of twenty minutes, Leah and I drove around, going window and silently envying the people that actually bought stuff. Then I made a quick stop to pick up the accursed thing called olives. Green or black, they're still gross but I want them. Currently, I'm holding the gross green things in a plastic jar.

I can't trust myself with glass. I'll drop it. I _wish_ it were glass, though.

"So, when are you going to tell Stan about Veronica?"

"Why should I?" Leah questioned, looking affronted. "You're like his best friend."

"So, are you, Lee."

"I wouldn't exactly say Stan and I are 'friends'," she explaining, putting air-quotes, around friends. "May I remind you about the Holiday Fiasco of 1993?"

Ohhh, I was thirteen when I went this Happy Holidays party.

Leah and Stan behave like if there was a cat and dog trapped in a box and you shook it.

I'm not going to go into too much detail, but Leah and Stan argued blindly not knowing they were standing under mistletoe. They kissed, and then argued some more. That's night, we were on three-way calling overtime. Leah was gargling mouthwash via speakerphone, and Stan left saying he was going to the library to see if he could file a lawsuit for "rape of the lips".

"You'll be nice about it, I won't. By asking _me_ to break the news, is like you don't know me at all."

Touché, Lee.

"Okay, fine," I complied, and let out a breath, while rubbing my eye. "I'll do it after tonight. After dinner with the in-laws, and prom night at work."

"Ouch, dinner with the in-laws. That can't be fun."

"Trust me. It's not, but I'll live…"

I think.

Saying goodbye to me, Leah promised to call me after she was going to actually buy Erin's present and a yellow polka dotted bikini, but hopefully, I'll be back to my prepregnancy weight and dancing my heart out. I miss it, but I'm doing it full time as a teacher.

And get this: I'll be allowed to come to work in sweats!

Yeah, how sweet is that? I'll answer for you. Very. It's almost to the point of a potential cavity, which is ironic, because of a gaping hole. Not cool at all.

Okay, so Gary's car was back meaning he was back from his aunt's house, an hour away. Parked behind my car though (Remember, I didn't take it), however, was Steve's car. Not that I'm happy to see my own brother but what's he doing here? I put the key in and twisted it, granting me access to my house. It was quiet which was nice.

Then I heard tapping and clanking noises from upstairs.

I'm just going to put the jar of olives in the fridge. As in, I'm going to stick it in the farthest corner of the fridge avoiding Susan's casserole. I mean, is beef casserole supposed to have a greenish tint? Either way, it has a new companion and I think the casserole just blinked at me. I'm going to close it before it grows tentacles and tries to strangle me for insulting it.

YOU. TASTE. BAD. What are you going –

Seriously, what the hell am I doing taunting an inanimate object? I need human interaction and fast.

I heard laughter, floating around near Erin's nursery. It was nice to hear Gary and Steven bonding, even though a small part of me questions why I can't do that. If I could tell you which sibling I'm closest to, it'll probably be Ron. We're just closer in age and we have the same brain wavelength. Still, I don't want to feel that I'm being suppressed and contained. But when I flip the situation around, I also don't want to feel like my relationship with Steve is fading away. My mother would have wanted us to be really tight.

I'm really close to Chase and Robyn, though.

"Real men didn't need instructions."

"So, Karen actually let you build two cribs without any instructional help?"

"Well, it was actually one. I just re-painted the crib when Karen was pregnant with Robyn and Chase was getting ready to sleep in a bed, even though he had problems adjusting. He was attached to us and Karen hated to see him cry, so Chase slept with us until he was nearly two," I heard my brother explaining. "But I never attempted to put a crib together without instructions. Karen was pregnant. God knows an irritated pregnant woman is a lethal weapon in itself."

"So real men _don't_ need instructions?"

I swear to God, Gary, use the instructions or I'll hurt you. Quite terribly. Those large blue puppy eyes won't affect me either.

"Well, yes and no. It's half and half, but I've never seen an unborn child have such a wardrobe. And I thought Chase's Union Jack shirt and Converse shoe collection was mindboggling. So, where's Laura anyway?"

I cleared my throat, making my presence known, "Uh, hi?"

That wasn't supposed to come out as a question but it did, and I was confused. Gary hugged me, pecking me on the cheek.

"How's your aunt doing?"

Gary rubbed the back of his neck, and sighed, "Well, interesting is one way to describe it. All I know is I won't be go back for a while."

Ah, you were smart not to use 'we'. Because as much as I love you, I'm not touching that territory with a ten-foot-pole. I acknowledged my brother, and hugged him. He returned it, but it was one of those 'I'm-going-to-attempt-to-hug-you-just-because' hugs.

"I'm going to borrow Steve for a minute, and then you guys can bond over crib building while using the instructions or my baby isn't going in there," I warned, looking at my husband with a playful glare. Gary looked at Steve, and he shrugged with a look that clearly said I told you so.

I read people. Don't think I'm immune to discreet stuff like that.

Steve and I have about a thirteen-fourteen year difference between the two of us. He's always been the protective one, the organized brother that had to have everything planned out or everything would just hit the fan, and then it was all over. My earliest memory of Steve and I was when I was about three years old, and I fell asleep on his chest.

According to my dad, he was my first word, and I called him 'Steffie' until I was six because I couldn't say his name right. So, it's not like I decided that we weren't going to be as tight, but I just got older and more rebellious and more free-spirited. My theory is that Steve was ready to watch me grow up and develop into my own person yet, even though I was only twelve and putting all of my time and energy into dance.

I can't speculate though.

We were downstairs in the living room, and I remembered that my laptop sat on the desk closest to the window and I'd have to check e-mails, and confirm appointments and such.

"I didn't want to say anything while Gary was there just yet, but I know you have something you want to say. Something along the lines of _I told you so_. But all joking aside, Laura, what happened to us?"

He asked that question with something I'd never seen in him.

I fiddled with the hem of my shirt, and offered an answer off-handedly, "I don't know. Maybe, because we have a good amount of years separating us. I don't like feeling like I have to be at odds with you just because our personalities are polar opposites and they clash."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," and then he let somewhat of a laugh escape him. This made me smile too. It's small but it's progress. For once, we're genuinely getting along without one or both of us _painfully_ swallowing our pride. "It's like you're so animated and fiery – "

"And you're the compulsive planner who has to know what's going on."

"Hey, well, in my defense, I'd like to make it clear that I'm not too fond of surprises. I like knowing about things before hand."

Don't get me started on the 40th birthday party two years ago.

"_Well, I killed the surprise, but you all get an A for effort," Steven said, with a smile and sighed like it was nothing. Wow, way to be a square. I'd say rectangle but that would be harsh to the whole rectangular shape and all. _

"_It's an A I'll cherish, Dad…"_

"_Happy birthday Daddy…" Robyn added, looking at me as to question what was going on. Yeah, I don't know either. I sighed, putting my head in my hands. _

"_Okay, any golf clubs for me?"_

My eyebrows knitted in confusion, "Then it won't be a surprise anymore."

"That's the whole idea."

A few moments of silence went by after Steven's display of logic. It wasn't one of those comfortable silences were everything was over and resolved. Wow, can someone say awkward silences?

"So, where's Robyn anyway?" I found myself questioning and shifted my position because I swear Erin just shifted positions. No, she's not in the head down position yet. It's too early. And that would be a major problem.

It would be something of a Code Blue.

One day I found myself wondering if there were such things as a Code Yellow or something outrageous like Code Purple.

Don't be surprised. My randomness is secondary.

"She's on an outing with a friend who happens to be a boy," he replied, awkwardly.

HA. Robyn got a boyfriend, and he just looked like he crapped himself.

I'm going to have a little fun with this. I know I shouldn't use my psychological powers for evil, but I can't resist.

"So, her boyfriend?"

"No. Her friend that happens to be a boy," my brother confirmed, almost adamant that his daughter wasn't dating. He sighed, and shook his head. "Laura, I'm aware that Robyn's out with her boyfriend, and she's growing up and becoming her own person…" Steven paused, and looked at me. "…like you did. She's so bright and resourceful, but she's as stubborn as a mule. Both of them are. I just want you to understand that allowing Chase to go to England wasn't my idea. I guess I caved. He got to Karen first, and then she got me and I had to agree."

Isn't being a parent putting a foot down? I wouldn't under any circumstances allow my child to go out of the country to chase the person she loved, no matter how romantic it was.

Well…

NO. Nope. No way in hell. I wouldn't allow it. I'm a soldier, and I'd so put my foot down!

"Under that lawyer exterior, you're just a softie, Stevie."

The look of shock graced his face, and then he smiled, "You haven't called me that in a long time."

Because I had my big brother back. He wasn't trying to be my father, and tell me what to do.

For the first time in a while, I actually didn't feel any resentment, no matter how small. Resentment still counted as resentment, but it melted away, and I felt the need to hug him. And I did, thoughts of my mom flooding me for so many reasons such as the fact she wasn't going to be around for the birth of her seventh grandchild, specifically her third granddaughter. The tears flowed down my cheeks.

"I miss Mom terribly," I mumbled into his shoulder, and then he pulled away, using the pads of his fingers to wipe my tears away. I think this was a long time coming and Steve and I sort of get each other. I understand that he's a neat freak, and he gets that I'm outspoken and spontaneous. That was our mutual understanding. Now, our rivalry will be reduced to a friendly, competitive, typical sibling rivalry. We can still wail on each other, but we do it because we love each other, y'know? I laughed, sniffling quietly. "Oh, God. I'm such a baby."

I cry for everything these days. Gary had this recliner that was gross, and I made him throw it out because it wasn't meshing with anything in the house. And honestly, I was terrified to sit there. I called Gary crying after I saw a commercial for a new recliner, and the dude looked so happy. I made my husband get rid of his recliner in all its dust-bunnied, leather-peeling glory.

He sympathized with me, but I think he was laughing at me at the same time.

If I wasn't pregnant and I saw mentioned commercial, I think I'd set the recliner on fire.

And just to speed up, I'd use the leftover lighting fluid from the barbeque.

I'm not a pyromaniac. I've been cured of that, and it's been a while since I've set anything on fire voluntarily.

"Ah, I think you're allowed to have your hormones scrabbled up. I think Gary's getting restless, and I'd better help before he attempts to build the whole crib by himself," Steve said, answering to the drilling and clanking upstairs. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before almost sprinting the up the stairs, skipping stairs, but Steven poked his hend around. "We'll talk after Chase comes home later tonight, okay?"

"'Kay."

And there I was. The lone guidance counselor.

Not only am I the guidance physically, but I also do it online. Either through e-mails or IM.

I hate formalities, and obviously it's benefiting me because they freely talk to me. Barriers just blow.

Oh yeah. I'm the sugar-honey-iced-tea.

See how versatile I am. But you know what I realized? It's freaking hard to type with acrylic nails on your fingers. As the laptop loads, I like to hear the clacking sound every time I type on my laptop. I'm freakishly weird like that. Ha.

The sound of an alert sounded and I instantly knew who it was.

I love the number 25. That's my number. That was the number on my soccer, basketball and softball jerseys and that's the number attached to my screename. Don't ask.

**DanceMyHeartOut25:** Stacy?

**SassafrazTeaQueen:** Hi Laura! The most amazing thing happened to me!

**DanceMyHeartOut25:** What happened?

You're ecstatic that Logan asked you out as his date to prom tonight. I know that, Stacey. But my guess is he'll be discreetly looking at Quinn the entire night.

**SassafrazTeaQueen:** Logan asked me out as his PROM DATE! I was going to use solar flares to ask him, because magical things always happen on prom night, right? Because fate has swung in favour of Stacy Dillsen. I'm so excited!

Let me just tell you right now that building anything out of cotton swabs is hard. I was curious.

So, I respect Stacy for her creativity. She must have an infinite amount of patience to accomplish building swab shaped things. But I feel bad for Stacy because she needs someone that will love her since I know for a fact Logan won't reciprocate anything. He's too Quinn-stoned for that.

If anyone told me that they'd be dating, even if it was in secret, I'd probably laugh in your face.

But yeah, it'd be nice if Stacy found someone to love her, or at least be friends with. Even though she's not conventional, I do think that there are qualities in her that people would learn to appreciate.

She's tone deaf, but at least she's ambitious.

**DanceMyHeartOut25:** Yeah. Right.

There are some many questions I can type to her, so I don't have the heart to burst her bubble. Not prom night.

I'm no Leah. I'm blunt, and direct, but I do have a heart. Leah, on the other hand, well…

And I'm really sleepy. I need a nap before I put myself through this dinner thing, and then prom at PCA.

**SassafrazTeaQueen:** I love my dress. My mom made it for me three months ago, and it's a nice shade of pink, so I'm really excited! I hope Logan likes it. I know he will!

**DanceMyHeartOut25:** Good luck, Stacy. I'll see you tonight, okay?

After I take a freaking nap. When I'm rested, I'll be in a tolerable mood.

**SassafrazTeaQueen:** Okay! Bye Laura.

**SassafrazTeaQueen** has signed off at 12:46 pm.

I yawned, rubbing my eyes a little. Glancing at the wall clock, I realized it was nearly one in the afternoon. I signed out, even though I liked to hear the clacking that made me all warm and fuzzy. Okay, here's the deal. I was going to sleep for about four hours and wake up at nearly five. Then I was going to take an hour to do my own hair.

I have a thing with people sticking their grubby hands in my hair. The only person I actually trust is my hairstylist, Rico and he's in Cancun with his boyfriend for the week, so I'm stuck with manual labour for the time being, but my hair's long enough to worn down. I just got in highlighted a couple shades lighter a couple weeks ago. It's fit the dress, and I'll find use the sparkly red barretts I got for my birthday.

Laura's agenda?

(Side thought: Why am I referring to myself in third person?)

Get dressed and dolled up by six. Dinner with the in-laws by seven, and crash PCA's prom by nine.

I'm not gonna crash it, per say, but you get the idea.

I flipped the laptop cover down as soon as it shut down, and basically dragged myself upstairs. Apparently the melody of hammers and drills become some sort of lullaby, and that meant they were actually going at it and working really hard.

Hello bed, and accompanying pillows. Did you miss me?

You can't answer seeing you are an inanimate object but I'm going to sleep on you for the next four hours. And I'm going to enjoy it very much. You're the only thing that'll stop my irritation and urges to impale someone if they irk me. Carefully, slipping under the bed, and building something of a pillow fort to support my belly, I snuggled into bed.

My eyes landed on a framed picture of my entire family after our annual Matthews Men versus Matthews Women softball game at our family reunion a year and a half ago. All of us bunched us together with grass stains and dirt smeared all over our clothes.

My family was finally going to be complete tonight.

The mere thought makes a small smile tug on my lips.

Hey Dreamland Express, move over!

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I told you guys this chapter was going to be long. This was nineteen pages, and this is just part one on prom day. Part two is actually going to be written after I update some of my other stuff because this chapter took me all week to do. Roughly eleven days, so I hope you guys will tell me how I did. It'll mean the world to me. I was going to combine both parts, but this is already ten thousand words. And the second part will probably be as long if not more. I'm so happy I'm almost done with this story. So, you'll read about Laura's night, and I have more crazy situations for her to get into. Let's just say she won't be able to contain some of the spontaneous thought in her head. **

**Random Erika fact: Many people may like Sean Flynn & Matthew Underwood, but my celebrity crush happens to be Christopher Massey. His acting and smile did it for me, I'm sorry, and Michael's my favourite character. I'd better end this before I space out and get this goofy smile on my face… -sighs-**

**Excuse any mistakes you may find. It's one in the morning, and I'm tired. I'll post and then edit it thoroughly in the morning. **

**Review. **

**-Erika**


	8. Prom Night

**A/N: So after like ten days of work, I only got like five reviews for Guidance. Eh, whatever. It's better than nothing. Recently, I wrote my first Chola and a Dana/Logan oneshot. If you're open-minded enough, go check it out and review. If you don't want to, then that's cool too. Anyway, here's the second part of the highly anticipated prom chapter. I'm writing this story close to canon, but the sequel. Stuff will be changed around. For there's your teaser for the sequel, Leave It On The Dance Floor. Anyway, enjoy. **

**I love writing Laura and Gary, so there will be a lot.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it. Just our random, lovable guidance counselor.**

* * *

**Guidance**

**Prom Night: Saturday**

* * *

_**Part Two: Night**_

What the…

I know I can't touch you, MC Hammer! Your song _clearly_ states so in a catchy manner. You're old and broke…and bankrupt! No, I don't want to dance, and do the bump. I already have a bump in the front! Okay, seriously…where the hell did my bump in the front go? I'm scared and back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Holy crap! Okay, I'm gonna tap my shoes three times even though they aren't red and sparkly.

There's no place like my bedroom.

There's no place like the bed I'm currently in.

There is no place like reality.

I swear, I didn't have any sugar this time, so why do I hear _Can't Touch This_, while MC Hammer does the Running Man with those parachute pants, I used to watch on TV when this song first came out when I was ten.

"Can't touch this…" MC Hammer sang, wagging his finger in my face. Ugh. He smiled, dancing. "Stop. Hammer time!"

He's missing the whole point. Oh my God. Am I dancing against my will with pre-bankrupt MC Hammer? Well, at least it's not torture, and it's a dream. Just like cartoons (coughDoratheExplorercough. And her cousin is a mini Tarzan wannabe, but I can tolerate him, sort of), dreams don't have to make sense. It's my dream to be exact, and my subconscious will sometimes make a person wonder if I'm on meds or not. Really, I'm not. My brain is wired way too different to understand and take in.

Hey, if you can't beat Hammer, join Hammer. I did it when it first came out in 1990, right?

I heard the music but everything was getting so distant. Hey, what happened to MC Hammer and his trademark parachute pants? Everything was getting so far away, and why do I feel like I'm being nudged somehow.

"Stop. Laura Time…" I heard myself mutter. Okay, I'm known to say things in my sleep. At least I don't sleepwalk when I'm stressed. I don't but Steven and Gary both do. See, I'm trapped between two compulsive overachievers but I can't complain about it. One has known me even before the fetus stage of my life, and one has sworn to grow old, and die with me. So, it's all good.

"Laura…"

Hm, what?

"Baby, time to wake up. Remember we have that dinner thing with my family tonight, and then we're hitting PCA. Come on, show me the beautiful green eyes, you basically hypnotized me with…"

This only made me wonder what MC Hammer would be as a real person. It was a dream, but it was a fun dream and you know when you automatically like something in your dreams and you smile but you don't realize it? Yeah, something like that but it was nice to wake up to Gary's voice too. I shifted around in bed, feeling more pregnant than ever, and opened my eyes. I blinked twice to focus my vision.

And there he was, smiling like he knew something I clearly didn't. I hate being thrown out of a loop, no matter how small it is. I reached over, brushing the little wisps of brown hair from my face.

"Mornin' sleepyhead. Have fun with MC Hammer?"

"Hey yourself, and yeah…I guess," I spoke, and it came out really groggy. I think I feel an eye booger somewhere in the corner of my eye. I hate those. They're irritating and quite gross. The only place I feel boogers to be allowed to hang out is probably the nose. But somewhere along the way in their research, I think a bunch of dead guy just suggested that eye booger build-up happened in the eye too. I rubbed my eye, shifting myself out of bed. Gary pulled me to my feet, and I stood, stretching slightly. Suppressing a yawn, I asked, "Is the crib thing all finished?"

"Yep, and I didn't hurt my thumb this time," my husband answered, proudly. He smirked. Please tell me why while I gargle mouthwash, use toothpaste (Cinnamon Blast flavoured, yum!), and make myself look pretty because I'm feeling quite gross at the moment. I need a quick shower to be refreshed and awake. "You know why?"

"Why?" I questioned, before I took some mouthwash and swished it around my mouth. I was in the adjoining bathroom.

Okay, ow!

The inside of my cheeks feel FUCKING acidic, man. I know I said I was cutting back, but this was one of those spontaneous, out of the blue, swearing moments that had to be necessary.

OW! OW! Mudderfudding…OW! I love the mint, but this stuff set your freakin' mouth on fire. It's worth killing the germs, but it's so not worth the pain. I spit out the Listerine after my brushing – no, I didn't lick the toothpaste this time – and washed my face, towel drying it.

Oh, yeah. You hear that squeak? Those are clean teeth. All thirty-two pearly whites.

Thank God for a wonderful thing called braces. It's one of the most painful things I've had to go through in my life so far, but it was worth it.

"Because, I was actually co-operating with the hammer this time. I 'befriended' it, sort of, so it didn't attack me," he explained, and caught my raised eyebrow as I made my way to the closet. Damn, I'm going to have to shower, wash my hair and style it. And let's not forget make-up.

HELP, RICO!

"Yes, you can befriend in an inanimate object…" he clarified, and I allowed a laugh to escape me when I spotted my red dress on its hanger. Sorry, incredibly cute maternity evening gown, time to relocate from hanger to on me. I glanced at our digital clock, and the numbers glowed 5:15. Okay, time to get organized, even though I might be winging it.

"Hon, where's your boutonnière?"

"That's in the fridge," Gary answered, pulling a satin red tie of the tie rack. Who really has a tie rack anymore? Okay, I cannot be any means trail of into another of my random tirades. I know you guys love 'em, but for the next forty-five minutes, it's serious business. "I put that in the fridge when you were asleep beside your red corsage."

Okay. Good.

One thing down. A bazillion things to go within the span of about thirty-five minutes.

Yanking my towel off the hook, I made my way to the bathroom, my red dress just waiting to have me in it. My sandals were red, but they weren't that high. Before anyone asks, yes, my towel consists of a double wide picture of Mickey Mouse. My sandals were red, and had a low heel. Trust me, if I wasn't pregnant, I'd so rock stilettos.

I guess, like Vince and Lola, we'll be fashionably late for dinner too. Yay?

The next half hour, Gary and I basically breezed by each other, saying one word things to each other every now and then. Our house became a place that hosted a flurry of jewelry, tuxedos, and ties, with the occasional dress shoe and slightly heeled sandal. I'm going to fast forward about ten minutes because I know you don't want the details or my vanilla scented shower, and I don't wanna give them.

Currently, I'm trying to get this dress to co-operate.

Don't get me wrong. It fits, and the red colour is beautiful. It accommodates my belly nicely. I find it a miracle to be able to be zip up the dress up myself. See, my flexible arms work at all. Awesome.

But I think my hair is possessed, so I'm going to perform an exorcism. My weapon, the blow dryer that has made my hair brushable (is that even a word – I don't have time to consult Webster right now) and soft, but now the curling iron is ready.

That's right, curly iron, turn my hair into optical lusciousness.

"Laura!"

"Yeah?!" I returned the answer with a yell of my own, wrapping a lock of my long hair around the middle barrel of the curling iron.

"Where are my car keys?"

On the table. On. The. Table.

I'm going to do a Speedy Gonzalez movement on my hair right now, and surprisingly, I'm almost finished curling my hair. I've just got three more parts to curl and make cute. My hair is long, and falls down to my mid back. I should cut it shoulder-length for a new look. I don't know.

"On the table, babe!"

"We have a lot of tables!"

I felt a slight kick, and I'm starting to believe that this is the way Erin talks to me from pounding on my insides. I laughed a little, wrapping the final lock of my hair around the barrel of my curling iron before releasing my hair to fall. Just a spritz of hairspray – truthfully, I don't really care what my hair spray does to the freaking ozone layer – for volume, and the curls would just naturally blend in because of the volume. Get it?

Just a bit of hair logic.

"Yes, your daddy misplaced his keys…" I spoke to my belly, and then sighed, looking at all of the accessories. Pretty bling, I'm not going to lie. "It's the one in the living room. The center table!"

I heard shuffling, a few bumps followed by slight jingling. Yep. He found the keys.

"Oh, okay! I'm downstairs and ready. So come down so we could leave!"

"Sure, I'll be down in five minutes!"

No, I won't. I think as a woman I'm allowed to make my man wait. As Britney Spears said or sang, "It's my prerogative…"

And the hairspray fumes are getting to me.

I scrunched and shook my hair together, and then I finally used the sparkly red barrets in my hair. There were gold hoops in my pierced ears. I'm wearing the garnet heart shaped pendant that had a longish gold chain I got on my first anniversary, and a couple of gold bangles that made a jingling noise when I moved my left arm.

Right hand is for my corsage. Duh.

The only thing I couldn't do was buckle the straps to my sandals.

I don't exactly feel like endangering my child's life because of a pair of sandals. They cost me seventy dollars, but you know how it is. So, I did the best next thing and slipped my feet in my sandals, and Gary's gonna be a husband because I can't bend over.

Okay.

Fast forward time… even though it's just for another five minutes because those three minutes aren't important. You know that. I know that.

So, I'm going to break the fourth wall, and I will push that metaphorical fast forward to the next scene.

The following sequence of events includes me looking awesome for tonight, and for someone with swollen fingers, I'm glad I didn't blind myself with the eyeliner and mascara. Okay, Laura. You are now glamorous, and co-coordinating. Glancing at the clock, the minute hand was nearly at the ten minute mark, and the hour hand pointing downward at six. My sandals actually feel like flip flops, but when I get them buckled then my toes will be shown in all their sexy glory. Nobody really looks at the feet, but my toes will make you look.

I almost forgot my matching red and gold clutch purse, with all of a girl's essentials: compact, lip gloss…stick, er whatever, a digital camera of course, my cell phone and God forbid I forget the house keys.

Let's me tell you something about the dress. When I say it flows, I mean, it has the beginnings of a train so I had to hold the front of my gown with one hand, the railing of our staircase with the other.

I tested it out for dancibility.

(Once again, Webster, I had to ignore you and your dictionary)

As for dancibility, I tested it, and it gets a green light from it. Any dress that doesn't permit me to do what I do best is not worth it. I'm pregnant, but I'll be on dance floor and dancing Laura Lite Style.

Laura Premium Style cannot be disclosed, because my dancing is just dangerous like that. Dangerous in the good, insane, trippy way.

"There you are…"

"Yeah, here I am," I told her with a smile, and lifted my dress to show him my unbuckled shoes. I smiled, sheepishly. "A little help?"

"Of course," and he got on his knee, and buckled my sandals before I took his hand and helped him up. Ah, there. Now, I'm comfortable, and glammed up. "There."

"Thank you…"

Would this be a bad time to admit that I'm actually turned on by Gary's adorably tousled hair? It was all messy and his bangs were slightly in his blue eyes like he had a light version of bedhead, but I think it's sexy still. He had his red tie, matching me, and I almost forgot that I had to stick his boutonniere on his lapel while he slipped on my corsage. It really brought back this nostalgic feeling of high school. My prom consisted of me being completely sober, while Leah got trashed and I had to hold her hair back while she puked in the bathroom.

Usually, it was the other way around.

Yep. Rowdy Boston times for you.

But seriously, Gary went from cute, to sexy beast. He was a subtle but sexy beast in my eyes.

"Ooh, aren't we looking glamorous?" he teased, as I put his boutonniere on him. "That was the right dress for you."

"Why do you say that?"

I know this is the perfect done. He took my wrist, and slipped on the red corsage and it really made everything come together, clothes-wise.

"Because not only are you absolutely stunning," he replied, kissing me while I got a whiff of his cologne. My God, he smells awesome! I mean, he's always had that typical Gary smell…I can't really compare it to anything. Hard to explain.

Oh, well. Moving on, because it's the way the circle of life works.

(Side thought: I was fourteen when I watched _The Lion King_, and still cried when Mufasa croaked)

But yeah, I have to find out what cologne that is.

"…it also accentuates your ass," he replied, breaking my thought process on the origin of his quite addicting cologne. I laughed, and rolled my eyes, grabbing his hand. "What? No, seriously. You've got a cute butt."

The night air hit my face, and it wasn't hot or cold. But just right. Awesome.

"I'm glad you appreciate my ass," I answered, locking the door with the key. The door clicked, meaning it was locked. I giggled, as I took his arm. "But I am starving, so let's go already. I'm just glad we're not having any French."

"Don't worry. I'll save you from the escargot and frog's legs."

"Ah, my hero…"

I opened the passenger side of Gary's car. Aw, my car's all lonely tonight. He climbed into the driver's seat, and we closed the doors. Obviously, I can't be arrested, so I put on my seatbelt, while Gary did the same and started the car. I sighed, taking the time to actually sit back and relaxed when Gary pulled out our driveway leaving my car all by itself. I paid attention to my window, not a lot of conversation going on, and a lot of things ran through my head a mile a minute.

How was I going to be civil towards my sister-in-law, knowing I wasn't going to take any of her crap? But I was trapped because of my Lamaze classes: Don't upset your baby's environment. Don't allow your baby to feel negative vibrations. Blah, blah, blah.

If the Lamaze lady wasn't so damn sweet and resourceful, I wouldn't have cared.

And my maternal instincts are getting stronger and stronger every day.

But I don't know if I can swallow my pride down that far.

…

…

Okay, okay! Fine, I'll swallow my pride. I'll probably choke on my bile, but I'll do it.

My phone started ringing in my clutch, kind of shaking me from my thoughts. Thank you, mystery caller. I took the ringing and vibrating phone, and slightly rolled my eyes at the caller ID. I've become something of a friend to him but he can be somehow of an exaggerator. I like him, though, and I only gave my number to that 'circle' of people, if you will.

"Hey Logan…"

"I can't do it! Don't make me do it!" he yelled, almost desperate. I'm imagining him, pacing wherever he is right now. My guess is his dorm, and he's getting ready painfully slow for prom. "There's no way I can take Stacy Dillsen to prom…"

"Logan, can you just breathe for a minute?"

As in breathe, because they tell you that in Anger Management class. That's how you stay calm, so you're not panicked – oops, too late.

"Okay, I'm calm…" In three, two, one. "I can lie to everyone else, but I can't lie to you – or Quinn because she seems to know right away. Can you just tell what to do? I'll listen."

"No, you won't. You won't listen to me."

He'll do something with no judgment, and somehow dodge the metaphorical bullet.

"That's probably true…"

A moment of silence passed, and then he sighed exasperated from what I could decipher. From the corner of my eye, I could see Gary's lips turned up in an amused smile while he continued to drive.

"Okay, fine. It's true, but Laura, seriously, I'm mere minutes from just blowing off prom. I tried to build a noose, but I gave up because it was too hard. But if something doesn't happen to somehow bail me out, I'll end up wanting to hang myself."

"Where's Michael?"

Michael's the most rational…or the lease insane. I'm not excluding him because he has his bouts of insanity as well as the rest of them.

"Don't know. It's Michael, so he could be off doing anything."

"And James?"

Of course, I knew where he was. On his way to Colorado while making an effort to nurse a broken heart. But I found myself, questioning it. Imagine me doing grimacing and doing a palm to forehead motion. All in one smooth motion. Yeah, that's how stupid I am.

"He left for some home thing…" came Logan's next reply. "I'm going to go make my last will and testament and then see her for two reasons: one, I miss her already, and I'm gonna will her my prized possessions. David Monkeyhoff, included."

I rolled my eyes playfully, "Okay, when you get over your melodrama, try to swallow your pride and try to be nice to Stacy tonight, please?"

Because she is a person, and I feel for her because of the crap she has endure.

In high school, I never picked on anyone who stood up for themselves. That usually scored major respect points with me, and the balance of the complex place called high school was restored.

I want Stacy to defend herself. Just once. She doesn't have to take any of the crap she gets. But to me, I don't think it's intentional at all. I feel that she is just being gracious. So, I'm almost begging Logan, the one person who gave up on creating a noose (Thank God…) because he has to go to prom with Stacy.

"Laura – "

"Seriously, you need to get out of your comfort zone," I said, actually being serious, and then I softened. "Chances are Quinn isn't going to have fun with Dustin either, so suck it up."

"I hate tough guidance counselor love, y'know…"

Oy vey. And I'm not just saying that because I'm Jewish.

"Well, tough cookies." I added, smirking slightly. "And besides, tough guidance counselor love is the best kind. Asking me to do anything else would be…just wrong."

And I've made myself hungry by mentioning cookies.

"Fine, I'm doing it because you're one of the few adults I actually like. I like you, so I'll go with Stacy, and I'll be…nice."

Atta boy.

"Now, go discreetly see your girlfriend and I'll see in a couple of hours at prom, okay?" I said, smiling and then added something else. It was just force of habit, but it was something I said just to nudge his conscience a little. For some reason, I imagine Logan's conscience sitting around in his psyche, just tired and annoyed all together. Or just on a vacation with a little sign on the imaginary door, saying: GONE FISHING – COMING BACK WHENEVER OWNER MAKES ME FEEL NEEDED. WHICH IS HIGHLY UNLIKELY. "And please,_ please_, and I'm adding another please for emphasis, don't do anything thoughtless and spontaneous."

"I can't promise you that, but again, I like you so I'll see what I can do."

That's good enough for me. I got through to him, and usually, Logan Reese is one of the most stubborn kids I've ever worked with. But there's any upside to that, at least he's determined and persistent in getting what he wants.

"I'll settle, Logan," I replied into the phone, with resolution. "Bye."

"Later Laura."

And the phone conversation was over, and the phone sat while set on vibrate in my clutch purse. Stopping at the red light, Gary finally turned to me, and asked, "What was that all about?"

"Prom dates gone haywire. It's a long story. I'm basically handling these little teenage soap operas that link and co-exist with each other…"

Cue slow theme song here.

And we can all pose in slow motion like the people watching actually care.

"Wow," my husband replied, looking surprised, but nodded his head slightly. He slightly rubbed his head, with one hand still on the wheel. Thank God. I don't intend to die tonight…or any other time before I at least reach ninety. "I'm getting a headache just thinking about it."

I shrugged, and then the car was in silence again. Ah, so the restaurant was really a half an hour to forty-five minutes away, rather than an hour. Shows what I know. Gary jerked the steering wheel, making the car veer off the left, and we drove through a beautifully decorated, and light up arch. I'm guessing that's the entrance of the restaurant. Gary slowed down, finding a parking spot and then smiled, obviously spotting his parents and…Paul and Julie's car.

Oh. Crap.

I mean, yay. Oh, yay. I think.

"Laura, promise you'll be civil. No sarcasm or snippiness, even though I love it, but please try your hardest."

"I can be nice. To your parents, Paul, and Jamie's a sweetheart."

"Aren't you forgetting someone?" my husband questioned, with raised eyebrows. I frowned, crossing my arms, turning away from him. I don't care how adorable he looks. No…just ugh…she's not worth almost splitting my tongue in half.

"No, I'm not forgetting anyone."

"Laura, can you not be so stubborn? We talked about this. You're my wife, and she's my sister. It may not occur to you that our child will be her niece. Like your family, my family will also be involved in Erin's life. You have to understand that."

Yes, because I'm just that freaking stupid. I have an IQ below average, and I simply can't wrap that around my head and understand that concept, Gary.

Urge to strangle rising. Rising exponentially.

But I'll take a deep, calming breath, and pray that my body doesn't listen to my brain's commands to throttle someone painfully. I can almost hear my rational side saying, "You're pregnant, fool! Calm down before you rupture a blood vessel!"

That doesn't mean my anger has melted. It was a raging fury, and now, it's an incessant annoyance.

I'll be a hypocrite if I don't bite my tongue, but I tell Logan to be nice to Stacy. I'm gonna be have to bite my tongue so hard, and I'll be sure to taste blood, but I can be the bigger person. I can be mature, and sophisticated.

"Fine," I conceded, glaring slightly. "But I'll fake it."

"I don't care if you mean it or not. I just want it to be a peaceful dinner – as in without bloodshed."

"Okay, okay," I sighed, and rolled my eyes before smiling. He pulled the keys out of the ignition and got out of the driver's side, and then came out and helped me out of the passenger's side. Oh, so that's why I married you. You're a gentleman. Offering me his arm, I took it and sighed almost inaudibly. "Let's go make some niceness happen."

"Thank you," he pecked my cheek, and we walked in, making it to the entrance. I wasn't acting when we stepped into the actual restaurant. It was actually really beautiful, and had this classic, reserved vibe to it. There were pretty chandeliers on the ceiling. The maitre'd was at the podium, but he seriously looked like he had a metal pole like, fused up his ass. "Uh, hi. We're here under the name **Whitman**. Dinner for six adults."

"Ah, splendid," Mr. Mister Maitre'd-Stick-Up-His-Butt replied, and went on his computer. "So, okay, we have them right here. W-I-T-M-A-N."

My eyebrow's creased in apparent confusion, and Gary threw me a look that clearly read one thing: What the hell?

"No," I corrected, putting on my most radiant smile. "It's actually spelled W-H-I-T-T- "

Remember that, okay? Double T's. As in two T's!

" – M-A-N," I finished, spelling. The maitre'd which irritated me so much (imagine sandpaper in human form, people!) but I was going to take this as an opportunity to practice for the real deal. "So, can you do your job, and lead us to our table?"

The maitre'd looked like I had wounded him, and he cleared his throat, "Table Eleven. A waitress will available to give cater to your needs."

"Great…" I replied, acting like I actually cared. I'm sorry, but I'm not pleasant when I'm hungry. Pregnant or not, hunger is not something fun to deal with. I grabbed Gary's hand, and rolled my eyes, muttering, "What a tool…"

"Baby, you just have the claws sharpened tonight, do you?"

Yeah, pretty much.

"I'll be angelic. Promise."

Angelic in the sense that I'll keep my sarcastic remarks to myself, even though it will be a total pain, but I can enjoy the wonderful food they've got. Fettuccini alfredo is right at the top of my list, getting rid of my chocolate kick. About time. Italian food doesn't fail at all.

"Laura, Gary!" Susan greeted, happily upon seeing us. She had a little black dress on a simple shrug to match it. Her brown hair was peppered grey, and her smile made little crow's feet appear at the corners of her turquoise eyes. She looked nice. "How are you?"

I hate your daughter, because she basically wants to tear me limb to limb. And I've been inflating everyday for the past seven months. I'm awesome.

I genuinely like Susan because she's probably the only maternal figure I got since my mom died. The woman's sweet, and sometimes, it makes me wonder if she's like a half version of Mary Poppins. Susan's great, but she shouldn't be allowed in the kitchen. Feeding her food to the dog is exhausting, tedious and I think it should be classified somewhere under animal cruelty. Who knows, because I sure as hell don't.

"I'm great, thank you…"

So, our table was basically greetings, and smiles. Jerry gave me a hug, since he's like the best father-in-law ever. No joke. And then there was Paul, who was kind of a go-with-the-flow type of guy. He gave me a hug, and a friendly kiss on the cheek. You know, one of those things. I asked where Jamie was, and Paul explained that he had the chicken pox, so they left him with his mother at their house to be taken care of.

"Ooh, rough…"

"Yeah, but at least he won't be restless when he wants to scratch, so it's all good. My mom's taking him for the night," Paul explained, with a nonchalant shrug, and took a sip of water.

I'll pinpoint the exact time when shit hit the fan.

Right…about…now.

"Julie, Laura's here."

Thanks, Paul. If she wants to stare at her shoes all night, that just means no conversation between us. Conversation just means one of us will end up storming out, but I'm going to be the bigger person, and fake my way out of it.

"Laura," Julie acknowledged, curtly, as Gary and I took our seats. "You're looking…well."

Yeah, well, I'm looking happily married too.

I will quote Michael Kelso from _That 70s Show_, and say, "BURN!"

Ah, I kill myself. I'll admit that was a low hit but she set herself up for that one. I'm saving that one!

I roasted her with the power of thought.

Gary sent me a discrete glance, and gently nudged my ankle with his foot. I would have loved a game of Footsies under the table under any circumstances, but this was so not one of them.

Brain to Face: I'm sending you the smile-like-you-gave-a-damn code.

Face to Brain: Alright, Boss.

Of all the things to do, I sneezed. It was a light sneeze, though. How's that for hello?

Nose to Brain: Oops, my bad. Didn't mean for the sneeze thing to down.

Brain: Idiot.

"Bless you…"

"Thanks, Jerry." I replied, with genuine gratefulness, and finally found the imaginary balls to greet Julie back. Excruciating, okay? Let's just clear that up right now. It better be worth the fettuccini, damnit. "Hey Julie. Uh, nice…shoes."

"I'm wearing ballet flats," she corrected. Obviously, we were both faking it, but I could still hear the snobbish tone in her voice. Smiling a tight lipped smile, I let a small laugh escaping me. It was either laugh or steal Logan's noose somehow, make it to an actual noose and then hang myself. Better yet, hang her. But I'm so hungry.

"Good to know…"

"Okay!" Gary intervened, knowing things were about to ugly in here, and laughed but it was forced. Nobody saw that she was glaring at me, and I was dishing it right back, except my husband which is why he intervened the way he did. "Am I hungry or what? Anyone else?"

Seriously. Who are you trying to fool? I love you but you're a bad actor.

Yet your family is wonderfully oblivious.

"I'm hungry, honey!" Susan chirped, eyes scanning the menu with enthusiasm. "Everything looks so delicious here. I'll guess I'll have the standard spaghetti and meatballs with meat sauce."

"I'll have whatever you're having," Jerry agreed, with a light shrug, and picked up his glass sipping his water before I did the same, because I was just outright thirsty. Dry throats are just gross, and if my mouth will be occupied with something else. My mouth can't multi-task, so she's dangerously lucky. It kind of caught me off guard that Jerry stared at me, concern shining in his hazel eyes. Why was there concern in the first place? "Laura, sweetheart, you've been quiet all night. Are you okay?"

I'm cool. And I promised not to start anything. I'm the freaking bigger person.

There's so much for me to say, Jerry. If only you were a mind reader.

Setting my glass down after downing half of it, I thanked God for my Outlast lipstick, and smiled. Hey, lipstick that doesn't fade out is a reason to smile, "Yeah, I'm okay."

"It's not anything with my granddaughter, is it?"

Like father, like son.

"No. She's okay. Just waiting for her time," I joked to lighten my mood. "Thanks for the concern."

I meant that. Seriously, And it's things like that, that made really want to cry, because I rack my brain for anything I may have done to make Julie hate me. Lo and behold, I've done nothing, so after a year of dealing with her bullshit, and just said, "Enough", and started fighting back. That's how we've gotten to that degree of animosity.

Scanning the menu, I found what I was looking for.

Bull's-eye. Jackpot. Bingo. And a whole bunch of other synonyms you wanna add. Bring your thesaurus and go nuts, I don't care. I'm getting my fettuccini!

And there's nothing psycho sister-in-law can do about it, but seriously Gary needs to switch seats with me. For safety reasons, and before you question it, not mine. Hers.

"I've settled on the fettuccini alfredo," I said, closing the black leather bound menu.

"Nice choice, Laura," Julie complimented, her hair clipped in an updo. I was happy because I want my fettuccini thing, but the seating arrangement is my major problem. My only consolation was that Paul looked like he didn't give two shits about his wife, and engaged in quiet conversation with Jerry. Something about football. I don't know. For the second time in one night, shit hit the fan. I felt a cross between kind of taken aback, and the urge to punch her in the mouth, pregnant or not. Sure, I took a low blow but at least I was nice enough to think it. "As a _professional_ dietitian – "

Ooh, professional. Well, wow, that just makes my psychologically oriented career look terrible, doesn't it?

(Sarcasm at its semi-best?)

" – I'm just saying this because I care – "

Paul's head snapped, looking in her direction, and he raised his eyebrows so high, I thought they would just disappear into his hairline, "You…do?"

"That's sweet, Jules…" Susan encouraged, smiling warmly at her daughter. She laughed, a little. "I think it's sweet. Actually, we thought you ladies clashed with each other, and didn't get along."

"So, you threw us for a loop…"

"Yeah," Gary answered, laughing nervously after his father. I'm this close to punching Miss. Annoying Dietitian in the mouth. "That's…shocking…"

Um, that's because we do, Susan. Get out of the false euphoria you have.

"Ah, let bygones be bygones," she replied, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Which is why I care about Laura's health, especially now, that she's in her third trimester. Counting calories is important, so I'm glad I let you know that. You probably don't count them anyway, so I'm here to help."

"How…" I started, and remember when I said, I'd probably choke on my own bile? Yeah, it's coming up, but I swallowed it down painfully. "…generous of you, Julie."

NO. SHE. DIDN'T.

Well, I'd be glad to certainly punch you in the mouth. Smile, Laura. Just smile.

No, forget smiling. I'm gonna punch her in the mouth so hard her dentist will feel it.

Before I could actually speak, a waitress named (well, her nametag said Riley) came up and basically forced me to keep my tirade to myself, "Hi. I'm Riley, and I'll be taking your orders now."

"Uh, two spaghetti and meatballs with meat sauce, two lasagnas, one fettuccini alfredo, one pasta with pesto sauce," Gary rattled off to the waitress, and she took a notepad and wrote it down. He turned to Susan. "Mom, can you tell Riley what drinks we wanted. I'll take a white wine, and she'll take a pink lemonade. I gotta talk to Laura about something."

Susan blinked, "Is everything okay?"

NO! Absolutely fucking not. NO!

"Yes, everything fine. Just order whatever drinks you want. Excuse us," I answered, with a reassuring smile towards everyone, and a glare towards _her_. I'm gonna get you back, one way or another. Oh, yeah. I'm SO getting you back. I stood up carefully, and taking my hand Gary led me away from the table, amidst other people enjoying their food, and desserts. On the other side of the restaurant, I crossed my arms over my chest. "Now, if you didn't hear the cheap shot she took at me, then you're dense. She acknowledged that I was pregnant, yet she implied that I was fat. Who the hell does that?"

He rubbed my shoulders, but it was supposed to calm me down. Okay, it did, but I'm still going to get her back. I won't feel better and completely at peace until I get her back. Once I do that, I'll be able to drive back to PCA, and enjoy myself at whatever remained of prom.

"Apparently, she can."

"And you will note that I didn't take any cheap shots at her, and I had a whole bunch of them."

On mini index cards, currently nestled in my purse. Aren't I resourceful like that?

"I know, I know. It's painful – "

"It's excruciatingly painful, okay?" I clarified, cutting Gary off, semi-gently. Fancy term for not so gentle, but not so rough either. "She's lucky I'm pregnant."

"Yes, that's the whole point. You're pregnant, and even though you're in a stressful situation, Erin can't feel your stress or we'll have a major problem. So, if you'll tolerate Julie for anyone, do it for our daughter. She's my big sister, and she used to get at me all the time, but I'm immune to it now. She's not totally heartless, though. I know that deep down."

The fact that you just tried to hint that Julie may have a heart wasn't even funny.

Not in the LOL kind of sense or the Who-are-you-try-to-kid sense.

"Okay. Okay…" I gave into him so many times that I lost count. Not that I minded it anyway. If I minded it, I would have taken a vow of celibacy, and I wouldn't be pregnant. This isn't the case. I kissed him, letting the kiss linger before I pulled away. I heard my stomach growl, and even saw my belly do a small, very small wave movement. Erin moved this time, and I didn't have to feel it. I saw it! Now, I'm genuinely happy, even if it's for a little while. "I'm starved, and it's nearly seven-thirty. If we get through dinner and maybe dessert, then we can be out of here by eight-thirty, latest and at PCA by nine. It's not over until midnight anyway."

"Awesome. Sounds like a plan."

We walked back to our table, and Gary pulled out my chair making me sit, and I adjusted my hair a little. Everything was good. Everything was chill. I was going to enjoy the plate of fettuccini alfredo. You know, I never realized how gross-looking pasta and pesto looked until I noticed it up close on Julie's plate, but I've seen grosser, so it didn't kill my appetite.

"Everything's good now, right?" Paul questioned.

"Yeah," I answered, with a smile, and let me tell you right now, that smile was actually for real. I meant it. The food smelled amazing. Boy, the Italians really went all out and got their cook on. It had this creamy, white sauce…and score! Garlic chicken, baby! I'll steal a couple of breath mints from the ladies' bathroom before we go. I don't know about the men's bathroom – I don't want to know – but they keep breath mints and lollipops in there. "Everything's great. It was nothing too major."

"Since everything in order, let's dig in!"

"Couldn't have said it better myself, Mom."

It was an hour of conversation, and I ate really slowly because I didn't want it to be over – the fettuccini alfredo, I mean. Being the dorky couple that we were, Gary and I laughed and traded food by feeding each other spoonfuls every so often.

"Oh, wow," Gary said, through a mouthful, and swallowed. "No wonder you were craving this, it's amazing."

"Laura, can you pass the salt, please?"

Way too kill a moment.

"You're right there. Why can't you get it?" I question, allowing the smallest hint of attitude to seep through.

"Because you're closer."

So, I don't want to get it for you. I'll kick your ass, not kiss it.

"No, I'm not," I defend, twirling more pasta onto my fork. It's common sense. "You could get the salt just as well, as I can. You know you're capable of that."

I made up my mind to get it anyway, because she'll being need more than salt when I'm done with her.

Bite me, okay? Just bite me. If you're so big and bad, why don't you eat it saltless, huh?

"Here," I shoved the salt shaker over to her. Hypocrite. She has the nerve to say I don't watch what I eat, and take care of myself, yet she has nothing to say about her sodium intake, or whatever, it's called. Discreetly rolling my eyes, I twirled some more pasta and popped it into my mouth.

"Thank you."

You're welcome, Thorn in my Side.

Soon, the table was silent with the exception of dishes clanking together as we ate our respective dishes. I think I groaned inwardly when I ate the last few noodles of my food, but I was full, and I downed my pink lemonade so I was done. Gary cut his last piece of lasagna, while engaged in light conversation with his father and Paul. I think the men bonded better than the girls tonight, but whatever. Julie's pesto thing was all done. Jerry slightly belched when he finished his meal, and Susan sighed contentedly, wiping the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

All I had to do was hope that Riley the ever-quiet waitress would come along and take our plates. Noticing Julie's glass of pink lemonade was still full, I inwardly smiled. I know exactly what to do.

I'm going to go to hell for this, and it feels like I'm five and in kindergarten, battling Toddy Tinkle, but it almost feels right.

"Well, I'm going to go freshen up a little. Julie, are you coming?" Susan asked, as Julie pulled out her cell phone.

"Nope, I'm going to call home and see if Jamie's okay," she stood up, dialing and Paul yelled.

"Let me know how my son's doing afterwards!"

"Okay," she answered, and yelled back. "I'll let you know about _our_ son's progress!"

Jerry, and Paul decided to go check out the mini bar selection, and Gary agreed. With a kiss on the cheek, he promised he'd be back, and we would leave since it was five minutes after eight anyway. Riley came by, and proceeded to take all of the plates and glasses – including the full glass of pink lemonade.

No, she can't take that. Or shit hits the fan for a third time, and then it's over.

It's totally like baseball without the diamonds, loud umpire and the fact that you're running around, but this totally applies to this: "STRIKE THREE! YOU'REEEE OUTTA THERE!"

"No! Don't take that!" Eyes wide, Riley looked kind of startled, so I explained. By that, I mean, I lied. I sort of lied. Thank God, no one's back yet. "I'm sorry. It's just that I'm expecting, and I didn't know go off on you like that. You're doing a wonderful job, and I'll certainly come back because of your service."

Hell yes. I'm coming back to get fat off your food.

With a bright smile, and her brown eyes twinkling, she said, "Thank you, ma'am. That means a lot to me."

"Riley, we need you in the back now!"

"Coming Vinnie!" she yelled, and then looked at me, somewhat apologetic. "Thanks for coming by tonight. Have a good night, and come again!"

Okay, waitress was gone so Operation Lemonade a la Laura could commence.

In three. Two.

One.

Uh, you guys might want to look away for what I'm about to do. But seriously, don't peek between your fingers or do anything of that kind. I'm warning you but if you're gonna look, then you can't say I didn't give you a heads-up.

The thing with anything kind of lemonade is that it's not clear. So thank God for that, and again I want to congratulate the genius that made Outlast Lipstick. Lipstick that never fades or comes off? Amazing.

If you have an evil relative you just can't stand, and want to seek revenge on without getting a ticket to jail, then these are for you! There's no book out. Eh, it's a work in progress. Alrighty then.

**Step to Insert Drink Here a la Insert Name Here:**

Step One: Take murky looking yet flavor-filled drink. Lemonade would be ideal, but anything opaque works too. Clear drinks don't work. For obvious, and quite gross reasons.

Step Two: Take sip big enough to fill one cheek. WARNING: DO NOT SWALLOW!

Step Three: Swish from cheek to cheek repeatedly. Occasionally, you may gargle, but again: DO NOT SWALLOW.

Step Four: Deposit from mouth to glass in a smooth, orderly fashion and swirl lightly to mix.

Step Five: Place glass in previous position.

Step Six: Wait for victim to come back, and discard traces of evidence.

Step Seven: For maximum annoyance, repeat steps one through six.

And that's the art of backwashing, my friends.

Having three brothers made me learn this stuff. Emphasis on made.

…

…

Okay, the rest of you can open your eyes now.

Jaws are probably dropped right now, and I see some of you gaping at me and saying, "Gary married a borderline psychopath."

The lesson learned: Do not under any circumstances piss off a hormonal person. Especially someone PMSing for nine months straight. We prefer to call to be called "well-rounded" instead of fat.

Unless it's with a ph.

Then I won't backwash your pink lemonade and laugh hysterically on the inside as you obliviously drink it.

The guys were the first to come back. And then Susan came back, looking cheery than ever, and Julie came back. She sat at her previous seat, and Gary swung an arm around me, but he looked at his sister.

"How's Jamie doing?"

"He's sleep. The calamine lotion helps, and maybe the bedtime story," she replied, brushing the dark brown bangs from her eyes. Now I feel better. I got my revenge based on something that wouldn't land me in jail, but was gross enough for me to sit back and enjoy. She brought the glass up to her lips, and let the record be shown that Julie in fact drank my backwash infested lemonade, well her lemonade. I'm slightly nauseous just watching her, but I feel a sense of elation. Twisted? Yes. A long time coming, definitely.

You drank my backwash. You drank my backwash. Ha, please enjoy my backwash, Julie.

Goodnight.

"Oh, wow, what a shame," I announced, glancing at the clock. It was eight-fifteen, and now we had to leave now, if we were going to catch prom at PCA at nine-fifteen. I bit my back my laughter, and pulled Gary up and he stood. "It's a shame we couldn't stay for dessert, but we're at a crunch for time."

"Oh, that is a shame, dear," Susan said, with a slight frown and a hug for me, and then for Gary. She pulled away, and licked the pad of her thumb slightly, studying Gary's face. My husband recoiled slightly when she rubbed his cheek. "Oh, sweetie, hold still. You've got a little smudge right…here."

"Mom, I think I've outgrown this. I'm almost twenty-nine."

"You just turned twenty-eight three months ago. I would know because you were a stubborn child, and the day you were born was one of the happiest days of my life, but when you have to push something like that out of your – "

"Mom!"

Ha. Momma's Boy. Well, I'm a Daddy's Girl, but Susan is funnier than the fact that Julie's pink lemonade glass is empty, and she's stupid enough to realize that she just drank a tall glass of pink lemonade which happened to be tainted. Oh yeah, call me evil, but I'm laughing all the way to the bank.

"Susan, we had this talk about letting go."

"Speaking of going, we're going to do just that," Gary rushed, grabbing my hand. He had the embarrassed blush and everything. "On behalf of Laura, and myself, thanks for an awesome night. We'll talk to you guys later."

"Sure, we'll talk later."

This is way better than thoroughly melted ice-cream.

"I'll be looking forward to it."

All heads snapped in my direction, and again Paul questioned with the raised eyes, "You will?"

Wow. That was full of fakitude (pronounced: FAYK-it-TOOD)

"Uh, yeah. Julie's so nice to offer the nutritious help, and I'm here for any psychological aid she might require. Keyword, being require," If I smile any wider, I'm going to cause nerve damage to my face. I watched her eyes darken, and her glossed lips turning into a frown, just at the right size. It was apparent enough for me to know that I just one-upped her, but not so deep that Susan had to play the mother hen. Everything's coming up daisies. I mean, Laura.

I like putting being my name in everything, but you know I don't even know the distinct meaning. I should ask, and hope that the meaning doesn't come out to be something fruity.

"Goodnight, everybody…"

"You can't run, but at least do the fast walk before my mom attempts to straighten my tie even though it can't be straightened anymore," Gary stage-whispered to me.

"Oh, I'm so behind you."

See, I've mastered the art of the fast walk. Like the time in elementary school, when Principal Sawyer would stalk the late kids, primarily me, with his megaphone, and scream in it until your ears bled.

Pity. Principal Sawyer died of some brain aneurysm. I can't help but feel I'm to blame because I gave him his first degrees of stress.

Maybe if he didn't make us have us eat mystery meat, and stewed cabbage, I wouldn't have had put all that work into belching the national anthem, while Stan accompanied me on the armpit. That was when we weren't dancing. But what can you do when on a pixie-stick induced high?

Slowing our walk, we can upon the parking lot. The night was really beautiful, and I was excited. I was excited because it was a May prom weekend, and I was going to see Chase again. I miss him a lot, but I've already said that. The sky was littered with just a few stars starting to show.

Wow, even with all of the pollution, stars still come out. Nature's amazing like that – until you end up with poison ivy. Then you itch like a –

"Laura, that was an interesting night…" Gary sighed, while I reapplied colour to my lips, and used the compact to check if there was anything in my teeth. Because it would be terrible if I did. It would be right up there with murder.

"Yeah, well…" I paused. "Interesting is an understatement of the year. I bit my tongue well enough."

"Except for the fact you basically told Julie, she was crazy."

"My mom didn't raise me to be a liar, honey," I replied, opening my red clutch purse. I laughed with a slight snort. "She called me fat. I call her nuts. That's the truth, well, on her part anyway. Well. It's over, so can we not talk about it anymore?"

Gary threw me a confused glance for a split second before his eyes flickered to the ignition. He was focusing all of his attention on starting the car, and the car purred when he did, "Fine, fine. I won't talk about it anymore."

"Thank you."

Thank God. I won't tell you about the lemonade until later. Meaning tomorrow…or next weekish.

I forgot the breath mints, so I went searching into my clutch, hoping to send spearmint gum in one of the side zippers. I always stick things in my purses and don't remember, so let's just hope for some spearmint gum.

Come on, spearmint, sugar-free redemption.

Come on. I remember sticking you in this clutch when I used it for the Holidays party.

YES! Score! My breath will be minty fresh even though that alfredo was slammin'.

Yikes. I just used the word slammin', but on the upside, the car was finally moving as I clicked on my seatbelt on. It was kind of silent in the car for a bit when we were driving away from the restaurant, and I chewing the gum silently. I just realized it has the same effect as mouthwash, and then it goes all stale and gross, but it helps majorly.

I'm on my way to Minty Street already. Hmm, catchy.

I checked my makeup one more time. Blush. Check. Eyeshadow. Check. Eyeliner. Check. Lip Colour, nice and glossy fresh? Check. Everything was in order, and I just felt my body relaxing itself with the precocious little person inside of me, I leaned back into my seat more, and the smooth motion of the car helped in the whole chill moment. The drive to PCA wasn't going to be that long anyways, but we were making great time. I realized by looking at my watch that it had been fifteen minutes since we started driving. Meaning it was eight thirty is.

Gary started driving, per say, but you know what I mean anyway, right?

I feel that I should have a reflective moment. So I will, as we drive by and I watch things zoom by my window in one blur one after the other. Poetry, anyone?

Reflecting starts…now.

The top five things that I learned from the whole pregnancy deal.

One: This pregnancy was a total surprise. Let me just tell you guys that now. Gary was an engineer, and I just started at PCA. Now, I've been working there for nearly a year. We both had jobs we loved, and they were taking off. The weird thing was there was no morning sickness at all, but like all free things in life, there was a catch. I had evening and overnight sickness, and confused I went to the doctor. They drew blood, and ran tests, and suddenly I found myself an expectant mother. Rarely Gary and I argue, but one night we were, and out of nowhere, I screamed, "I'M PREGNANT!"

Stunned in silence, and literally, there were crickets chirping outside.

I think we cried that night from a mix of shock, and happiness.

Two: Peoples that pose while pregnant and make it look like a walk in the park. I have one thing to say to that: BULL. CRAP. Pregnancy is no picnic. Sometimes, I wake up looking forward to stuff, and other days where I just want to cry over nothing at all. It's just physically and emotionally draining, but there's a balance I try to maintain. If something makes me cry, then I find something that makes me laugh. See? Balance is achieved. And when you're happy, the baby is happy and thriving.

And that's all I want for Erin. For her to grow up, and being content.

But don't let anyone tell you that pregnancy is easy. NO PREGNANCY IS!

Men, be thankful you don't have a uterus, fallopian tubes, and eggs.

"Laura, are you okay?" Gary asked me, and got my attention when he stroked my hand with his free one at a red light.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm thinking about the whole pregnancy, and how my due date is approaching. It's crazy," I answered, looking him in the eyes before I held onto his free hand. He needs the other to drive, duh.

Karen told me I was due somewhere in July, and it's May, so it works out perfectly.

"We'll be okay," he replied, and laughed. "I'll be sleep-deprived, and you'll probably cry, but we'll be okay."

"I love you."

It's that sort of reassurance which makes me love him from the inside out.

"I love you more, and you're absolutely glowing, especially tonight…"

He turned his eyes back to the road when he hit the gas pedal, putting the car in motion. But he never let go of my hand the entire time, and that made me feel safe for some reason.

Okay, where was I?

Oh yeah, point number three. These points will be shorter than the last two.

Three: Food. Pretty much, I watch what I eat. I eat the nutritious stuff, and drink a lot of milk. I have these big water bottles of them, but the only downside – I tend to fall asleep a few minutes afterwards. The craving get in the way though, and I don't have to tell you that I've had some pretty crazy ones. That's self-explanatory.

You watch what you eat, but you can get away with sneaking junk food in.

Not that I've done it because I haven't and…

NEXT!

(The fact that I drove to McDonalds at three in the morning for a Big Mac and a McFlurry has yet be proven)

Four: Get a lot of fresh air. Don't be a hermit. I never was, and pregnancy didn't prevent me from doing that either. The walk from the house to the mailbox doesn't count!

Five: I've been preparing myself for the inevitable labour stage. I watch a lot of Lifetime, and TLC Channel because maybe if I watch some unfortunate person try to bring someone into this world, it won't be so bad for me, right?

(Don't tell me I'm wrong! Just…don't.)

I'm going to end this because I've reached my five reflective points, and we're on a road no one really drives on anymore, and there's a lot of shrubbery, but what the hell is…

"Is that an abandoned taxi cab?" I questioned, peering over Gary's window as he slowed down. He looked just as confused as I was. It was yellow, and the poor car looked like it had seen better days.

"It would appear so."

When I mean, better days, I mean somewhere between the 80s and early 90s.

"Which taxi driver leaves his car alone?"

Gary moved the car, and PCA was getting closer and closer. I couldn't help but wonder which unfortunate people got stuck in that.

"Well, only two kinds, babe." I started, explaining. "The kind who was seriously pissed off, and took it out on an innocent vehicle, and the kind who was pissed off, and basically stormed off angrily. Chucking the keys is optional thing, but seven of ten drivers do it."

"Right," Gary nodded, slowly. I don't think he understood, and I confused him, but he's adorably confused like that. Hands on the steering wheel, he turned the car to a left, and suddenly, I'm seeing a whole lot of purple. YES! "So, the fact is they have to be angry, right?"

"Exactly," I confirmed, and we passed a **NOW ENTERING PACIFIC COAST ACADEMY** sign. I grinned widely. "We're here at…eight-fifty. Awesome!"

Gary slowed down, going over speedbumps, and drove into the entrance. David said to look for an arch beautifully decorated and it would be lit up, and stuff. I'm a visual learner so it's all good. We landed in the student parking lot, which wasn't too far from prom. I could hear the music from far away, and it sounds good. Gary finally parked…right next Michael's stickshift.

Oh, boy. I don't what to say after seeing that car. But when Michael's happy, then it's all good.

I think.

No, wait. Yeah, it's all good. It's prom night, obviously!

Gary pulled the keys out of the ignition, and placed them in his suit jacket. One of the inside pockets. I slammed the car door key, and disposed of my gum (yes, my breath was all minty now. Coolness) before he offered me his arm, and I took it and we walked across campus. PCA looks like the freaking Emmy. I feel like I should be standing on a red carpet to match my dress (HA!). To me, it felt like a formal Take-Your-Husband-To-Work Day.

For one. That one, being me.

"Hey Laura!"

Sarah Howard, captain of the volleyball team. Recently dumped, but going to prom with Josh DeLuca.

"You're dress is so pretty. Red is totally your colour, Laura."

Heather Sinclair, poetry club member. Dating Danny Schwimmer. Odd couple, or one of them. It's comforting knowing Quogan isn't the only 'odd' pairing. Heather's totally preppy, and Danny is into the gothic thing. But whatever. It works.

"You're the dude, Laura! Uh, wait, you're the dudette!"

Steven O'Connor. Plays on the football team but is kind of dense in the head. He's going to prom with Clara Jenkins. I'm not sure if they're dating, but you know I'm bound to find out about everything.

"Hi Laura!" Melanie Mendoza, new girl and single, but she appears to be in the company of Alex Callahan.

"Hey Mel!" I greeted, back. "Come talk to me next week about your college requirements, okay?"

"Awesome!"

And she flashed me a bright smile, flouncing off in her turquoise coloured dress.

I caught a glimpse of Dustin and Sienna walking a distance off in the direction of Sushi Rox. Oh, well. I'll ask about that, even though I don't have to. And there were hand-in-hand. Cute.

"You run things, don't you?"

I've won Favourite Teacher only four times…you know.

I shrugged as we walked through the arch. David seemed to be a bit busy with Linda. Only he would be the ultimate dork and slow-dance outside when there's a fast dance inside.

"Something like that," I replied, and kissed Gary's cheek. I like the thought, but no. It's not like that. "Well, I basically make sure they don't cross the line dividing rationality and insanity."

Before I do.

"It's been so long since I went to a prom. Ten years can go by so quickly…"

"Well, while you go into nostalgic mode, let's have fun at this prom, yeah?"

"Fun is my middle name," my husband announced in a voice that made me laugh a little, and then he frowned slightly. "Actually, my middle name is Phillip. I'm not feeling the name, but I'm not going to tell my mother that. God forbids she goes into one of her rants like you."

"Like me?" My eyebrow shot up in questioning, and I wanted to see what he would say. Crossing my arms, my voice was full of questioning, and Gary grew flustered, and that embarrassing blush which somehow made spread throughout his cheeks, and travelled to the tips of his ears. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, my mom's rants are embarrassing, and yours are entertaining. I was trying to establish that fine line," I almost bit back a laugh, as Gary tried to save himself from my 'anger'. He looked like he was grasping at straws. And then I couldn't watch him squirm anymore, and I wanted to get my prom on. His face had a look of realization in them, when he heard me laugh. "Oh, you're evil."

"And you love me for it."

"Lucky you," he said, a soft smile touching his lips, before he grabbed my hand and intertwined the fingers.

Gary smiled proudly, straightening out his jacket, and I lightly ruffled his hair to make sure it was still messy and tousled in that cute kind of way. Now, we were ready to have fun.

Okay, wow.

Heather really went all out for this prom. Appropriately named Jungle Fever, it looked like a freaking jungle. People were practically everywhere, and there was a blend of, like different colours. It was all a rainbow-styled blur for me, even though I caught remnants of people. I was amazed because the people that I would never dream actually going all formal, well, did.

I caught a bright smile and a flash of ivory. The person I know that would be rocking the ivory dress was Lisa. She came over, smiling brightly with ivory pearls adorned around her neck.

"Hey Laura," she greeted, with a smile, and she caught Gary's presence. "Oh, hello."

Ooh, introduction time!

"You've meet my husband. Awesomeness. This is Gary," and then I turned to him. "And this is Lisa Perkins. She holds a mean note. Mariah Carey's too old anyway, so she'd better move over."

I was half-joking about the Mariah Carey thing. She's like…what? Forty?

And how does someone like that sing a song like "Touch My Body"? I envy her for the quite perfect legs, and I've almost her beat in the boob area (Ah, the perks of pregnancy), but I can't help but think that song has, you know, pedophilic tendencies. If little boys learn masturbation through this song, then it's all Mariah Carey's fault!

Think about it: TOUCH. MY. BODY. It's perfect self-explanatory.

What happened to the meaningful singers like Whitney Houston?

Oh, wait. I guess that answer is pretty self-explanatory too. Add Bobby Brown, and a double whammy of crack…and voila! You can have a life just like Whitney Houston's. I'm not grouping Tina Turner in that, because Ike is just a simple wife-beater.

Lisa laughed a little, and allowed tinges of pink to grace her cheeks, "I don't think I'm that good, but I love to sing, and dance a little, but you missed so much. Seriously."

Can someone please sell Jungle Fever 2008 DVD's? I'll happily buy one, and watch from the start.

"Well, what'd I miss?" I asked, innocently, because I don't know. I'm trapped in a fettuccini alfredo induced haze. Oh, I'm having a Homer Simpson moment.

Mmmmm, fettuccini alfredo.

Aw, shit. I almost zoned out. Lisa looked at me in an innocent, mysterious way, before she gently grabbed my wrist, leading me. I looked at Gary with a totally confuzzled (I MADE THIS UP. OKAY. MINE. It's copyrighted. Confuzzled is a blend of confused and puzzled…you know, a hybrid, sorta)

"Hey, I have no idea what's going on, so I'll go hang with David and Henry over at the entrance," he kissed my check, and smiled warmly at Lisa. "Lisa, it was a pleasure. Now, lead my wife away, while I mingle outside."

"You too…"

While Lisa gently pulled me by the wrist gently, I yelled after his retreating, hoping my lungs would come in handy this time, "Get me punch when you're comin' back!"

"Come on. You're a little closer…"

And then I saw it.

Everything just hit me, and I knew. I really didn't have to The loving gazes Quinn and Logan would steal from each other, while his arm fit perfectly around her slender waist.

"We did it, Laura," Quinn said, with resolution, and a sigh of relief that was a long time coming. Logan planted a kiss on her cheek. "We actually told everyone we loved each other."

"But we're going to dance now, because we're just that good."

Yep, Logan will probably never change. Well, he probably won't until Quinn gets a hold of him.

And then he literally held her, and spun her onto the dance floor before catching her. Luckily, Quinn had the balance of a ballet dancer which leads me to wonder if she actually took ballet while being the genius inventor that she is.

Then they danced like nobody's business.

I'm thrilled they went public, but I only have one thing to say.

FUCK.

DAMN IT!

AHHHH!

I'M SO FREAKING PISSED OFF!

Oh, yeah. I went there! I missed the whole 'coming out of hiding thing', which is why I'll probably be way miffed to even cry if they didn't sell post-prom DVDs. I feel that it's one of those moments that I had to be there to witness.

"I've lost my best friend to that…" Lola sighed, gesturing to the couple – obviously Logan and Quinn. She frowned slightly. "Where is that hunky, sweet football star of mine? Luckily, I actually like this song."

Lola sauntered off to go find Vince, who happened to greet his girlfriend with a glass of punch, and they kissed.

"So, they were together this entire time, and I don't get any planned surprised birthday party. That is so flump! That is the flumpiest thing ever!" Michael huffed, because he's just funny like that. "Right up there with Mr. Takato just leaving. He's real, I swear! Laura, you ever heard of him?"

Zoey and I shared confused looks, while Lisa looked like she was ready to smash her head into a wall repeatedly before I sighed, "Michael, come talk to me."

Just then I heard it. The dreaded thing (or song) that made me almost have the urge to chop of my ears, or slit my wrists. I can't stand Miley Cyrus. I can tolerate the Jonas Brothers, while Robyn denies she loves them. Notice I used the word love…well, her and thousands of girls global. She has one of those Jonas walls, but that's not the point. If I hear a High School Musical song on TV, then I'll lose it.

And like, Pussycat Dolls will actually do something for society.

(Coughdancingwhorescough)

Hey, they, along with Mariah Carey, can compile the ultimate jerk-off soundtrack.

Again, I've gotten off on an irrelevant tangent.

But I HATE, HATE, absolutely HATE this Soulja Boy kid. He almost nauseates me.

"YOOOOUUUU!" the song started, and Michael grinned, punching the air.

"I hate the song but the dance is drippin'!" And he was gone, proceeding to start the dance which goes with the song. That's not even the funny part, but this was. Michael then had other kids doing it with him. It's his likability. You can't really bring yourself to hate Michael. But you love him all the same.

I swear, Michael's a child at heart, but I am too, so I can't really say anything.

Ooh, this is so the highlight of prom.

His girlfriend sighed, as she tried to bite back a laugh at her boyfriend's antics, "This is my cue, guys. Oh, and Laura, even though you do look like Evangeline Lily, we finally see that you and Chase sort of, look alike even more. It's cool that you guys are related. Now, I have to check on a certain boy of mine, and sneak in a dance or two. Bye!"

"You told them, right?"

Zoey smiled widely, and nodded her head no, gesturing behind me, "No, but you can ask who did."

My eyes widened, and I felt genuine excitement when I turned around to see him. I don't think I can't even speak. With the same bush of hair I could never imagine him without, he smiled at me, and then that's when my mouth became functional and this is what happened. Four mouths was a really long time, at least to the pregnant person. When he left, I was just started to actually get a belly, and my belly size has doubled even though my dress, so yeah… it's been a while.

"Chase!" I screamed, happily. "Oh my God, Robyn tried to totally psyche me out and told me you were coming home tomorrow, but that's not the point at all –

Brain to Mouth: SHUT THE HELL UP!

Mouth to Brain: Subject is excited, and so her speech productivity increases. Geez, sorry.

Okay, breathe.

" – but somewhere in this long and quite speedy ramble I'm saying I missed you," I started, talking at normal speed, and I wrapped my arms around him, and he did the same. It was kind of awkward because of my front, but it was a hug that I would keep forever, and we were apart. "So, did you see Gary yet?"

"Me too. Yeah, it was one of those sacred nephew to uncle things," he said, faking mock secrecy. Yeah, so? I'm still the rocking aunt, so ha! We all laughed, and then he moved to be at Zoey's side, throwing an arm around her shoulders. She smiled, looking up at him, and I knew it was one of those things. But I'm freaking glad they finally got together.

"Okay, I'll leave you kids alone, but on one condition…"

Chase pretended to be bothered, but it was in good jest. I missed that, "You don't give a guy break, do you?"

"No. But we do have to catch up, and then he's all yours, Zoey," I finished, turning my gaze to the blonde who giggled, and spoke.

"Deal, Laura."

HAHAHAHA!

The look on Chase's face is hilarious, and I mentally kicked myself for not capturing it with my digital camera, and then tagging him with it on Facebook.

Yes. I've fallen prey to FaceCrack – because it's freaking addictive, but I'm learning self-control.

Wanna add me? Simple. Laura Michelle Whitman.

I like to hyphenate it and add Matthews to the mix for myself, but that's what it says legally.

"Okay, so I was basically sold, but I love you and I got you, Gary and my future cousin a persent, so we'll hang out for sure. It's been a long time coming."

"Yeah, it has, but I'm up for dancing again," Zoey answered, pecking his cheek, and grabbed his hand, leading him to the direction of the dance floor. She turned to me, and she yelled over the music, "Laura, we'll talk!"

I gave the thumbs-up thing because I was up for yelling.

Thinking about it, I was so angry with Steve for letting Chase go off to London and be stuck for fourth months. I'm still not cool but the whole situation, even though it already happened, but everything happens for a reason. As cliché as that may sound, it rings true. I think England helped Chase develop as a person and grab the reins of a new perspective.

I smiled to myself, because at least now, he wouldn't steer and crash – I hope.

…

…

A cup of punch, and twenty minutes later, I'm resting my head on my husband's broad shoulder, dancing to a song I can't name at the moment. But I'm satisfied, when I sneak little peeks onto what's happening on the dance floor. Being the guidance counselor is like being an artist of sorts, and the whole psyche of one entire student body is on your shoulders. I mean, this, right here, feels like a canvas to me. I'm not going to say I'm the one who actually painted the picture I see on the dance floor, as various are just bonded together.

I wasn't the painter, at all.

That's just being cocky.

I was just the one who told them which colours to merge together to create something beautiful, and I feel like I'm in an animated Picasso. Let me figuratively walk you through it.

There's Michael and Lisa. He's holding her in his arms, swaying in time to music, and they're share wide smiles.

Over the far left are Quinn and Logan. He whispers something in her ear which makes her chheks turn a rosy red, and a small, light laugh escapes her. And then they kiss. Art subjects like making out. Okay, then.

A couple feet down are Vince and Lola. She's just comfortable and Vince frames her nicely. Simple one there.

And then Chase and Zoey – the one that takes ridiculously long to come out into something beautiful the first time, but keep merging those colours and they finally appear beautiful and deep.

Here's the unique piece of the painting, and some art also includes a bit of irony.

Well, how's this for irony – Mark Delfiggalo, yes, Quinn's ex and Stacy Dillsen (Logan's crush) WITHOUT the lisp (I have yet to find out what the hell happened), enjoying each other's company. It may not mean anything big, but I like that they both get happy endings too.

That, people, classifies as one big masterpiece.

* * *

**A/N: Again, longer chapter than the last. There will be one aftermath chapter. It started in her office – that's where it ends. And then there will be an epilogue. And then Guidance is over, so I can map out the sequel.**

**Even though, I spit out like this. Be glad that I'm off tomorrow, and it's three-thirty in the morning. Now that I'm a psych major in university, I have to prioritize myself and be focused on successful passing my first year…meaning that updating stories is at the bottom of my list. I will only update and write if time is good to me. And it probably won't be, so that's bad news. **

**Please excuse any mistakes you may find. I'm only human and I'm tired right now, and is desperate need of sleep. Reviews would be nice to get in the morning.**

**-Erika**

**PS. Don't write Julie off as a bad person just yet. Things aren't what they seem. The lemonade thing will come up again. I actually did something similar to that in elementary school and got the Time Out Chair. I crushed up this girl's Animal Crackers, and put it in her KoolAid while it was snacktime. No joke.**


	9. Week Seven

**A/N: Read and enjoy, kiddies. Good news. I have the whole sequel mapped out, and stuff. Although, I'm hoping it will premiere somewhere around late-March/early April 2009 because that's when I finish my first year, I'm also trying out another strategy in which I want to write and complete the entire story, and then post. That way, there won't be any writer's block. I'm hoping for this story to finished around December 2008. Somewhere around my nineteenth birthday. Old and all new characters will be coming back, and I have at TWO, yes two, new pairings planned. So, yeah. Bad news. I had a Chola oneshot in progress but it wasn't going in the direction I wanted, so it's gone. To compensate, I have another Chola oneshot out for you to read if you already didn't. **

**Disclaimer: I hate writing these things, but I don't want to get sued, so no. I'm not Dan Schneider and I don't own the rights to Zoey 101. **

* * *

**Guidance**

**Week Seven**

* * *

_**Week Seven: Monday**_

_It's the day after prom, and it was a lot of fun. _

_It's noon, and cloudy. Looks like it rained overnight, but I just woke up an hour ago, because we didn't get home until a little past midnight. I was a teenager not so long ago, and after parties were bound to be everywhere by the time we were leaving. After parties only mean two things – well, three – a bunch of teenagers that are just beginning to get their fill of heavy duty partying, a whole lot of underage drinking Dean Rivers to be blind to see or even consider because PCA is just that innocent of a school. Actually, the most innocent one in California. _

_Yeah, right. _

_If I had a dollar for every student who came streaming into my office, I'd be chillin' in my multimillion-dollar mansion on my own private island. Or the Hamptons. _

_I don't have any preference. _

_Thirdly, and definitely not the least, but last, the select couples that will take their relationship to the next level and try to recreate the famous Jack/Rose scene. A car may be optional, but will there be a hand that slides down a foggy, steamy car window while deep in the throes of passion?_

_I don't want to know. Sex is a choice, but once you take a whack you never go back. _

_With that said: USE PROTECTION, CHILDREN!_

_I'm still sort of sleepy, but I had to wake up because I was hungry. Well, Erin was in a way, I think. I don't know if that's the proper wording for that, but yeah… I couldn't get back to sleep. Sometimes, I feel possessed in a way. I really don't know control over my body. My head says, "Go back to sleep" but my hormones and stomach practically screamed, "Feed me!"_

_For my morning entertainment, I'm about to watch what I missed. Whoever got my telepathic messages about prom DVDs, thank you. You rock. And every other awesome adjective out there. You are the shit, in summary. _

_Today is the one of those lazy Sundays where Gary insisted on not going to the office today. Can you believe it? They're actually open on Sundays. It's an engineering company and they basically make sure the city's "power grid" – whatever the hell that means – doesn't go berserk and we're all plunged into darkness. I'm half-asleep but I'm getting hungrier when I smelled Gary's blueberry pancakes. Clearly, he didn't inherit the bad culinary gene. _

_He woke up before I did, and when he saw me, he got all concerned like something had actually happened. Before I could stop him, he was in the kitchen with his "special" apron (I'll explain why it's so special at a later time) on and he was halfway done mixing the batter. I want to lick the batter off the spoon, but yeah. My mood is very sluggish and lethargic (Ooh, big word of the day). The DVD menu came up, and a laugh came out of me. I don't randomly laugh. Maybe I randomly curse at the retard who drives like they're doing it with their feet. _

_I don't have road rage, okay?_

_Road rage is foreign to me. But using a string of dirty words that indicate said jackass needs to be off the road, so he or she doesn't kill anybody. Yes, I do that every day to get my point across, but apparently people are deaf when you're nice and polite. So, no. I don't exhibit sings of road rage. _

_And you know by spending these weeks with me that my thoughts are like a paradox. Random in ways that'll make you scratch your head and go, "WTF?!" but I do have a relevant tangent and get to it. _

_98 percent of the time. Not sure about the other 2 percent. _

_But this time, I was laughing because Gary was especially silly this morning. He held out a wooden tray by its handles like it was something grand to me. Well, the breakfast was pretty nice and I wanted to eat it. _

"_A couple of my famous blueberry pancakes and orange juice fit for a queen. Well, my queen anyway."_

"_Thank you," I told him when I set the juice down and went for the pancakes. And with whipped cream on top? Aw, you spoil me. I think Gary would love it if I stayed in this pregnant body forever. Well, too bad because once I give birth, I'm hitting the gym and getting all toned out again. On days I can't go to the gym, I'll buy my own Dance Dance Revolution and play for three hours. I heard that burns a lot of calories, and fat real quick. So, that's my workout plan._

_Cutting through my first piece of pancake, I came to the conclusion that these were amazing. I'd eaten them better, and maybe it's because hormones affect taste buds, but these were pretty freaking amazing pancakes. I find that even sitting with my husband and holding deep conversations about the simplest things of things become deep and intimate. _

_Just last week, we were talking about clouds while we took a walk to the park and watched them. _

_I swallowed and looked at him quizzically, "You're not going to eat anything?"_

"_You'd be surprised how black coffee gives you the illusion of fullness."_

_Yeah, nice try. _

_I'm the funny one, remember? I make funny and serious work at the same time. But you're going to eat something edible instead of beans and hot water – that's all coffee is. I would know that because I'm a semi-recovering addict. Caffeine is bad when you're pregnant. I'm still going through withdrawal slowly, because I've been drinking it since I was seventeen. It got worse in college. _

_But he's so gonna to eat after we finished watching the "missing scenes" I just happened to…you know…miss. _

"_Gary, I don't want your stomach getting angry with you, and then revolting by giving you an ulcer because you won't fill it. They hurt, you know. As a queen of this "castle", I order you to feast to your heart's content after the prom movie is over."_

"_For you," he said, and kissed me. I finished the pancakes and got my glass of juice. Just how I like it. No seeds. No pulp. I took another sip of juice, and hit play on the remote. _

_Best five dollars I ever spent. _

_And Jeremiah Trottman's covering this. A little birdie told me that Martha was going with him, because her older brother, Nathan scared him into going. He didn't want his baby sister to go to prom alone. Well, Nathan's 200 pounds, and six feet-four inches. _

_Compare that to Jeremiah Trottman and you'll see my point. _

_Okay, there's Coco in a sort of cute dress. I like that she wore her hair up though. _

_Could my eyes be deceiving me? It's Coco without any pie, cookie dough or ravioli. They look happy now, but what about tomorrow?_

"_If she comes to me with another relationship problem, I'm boycotting."_

_My husband raised his eyebrows at me, "You're boycotting your job?"_

_No. Of course not._

"_No, I'm boycotting the relationship. I don't think I can help them, anymore. The man is an ex-con crying out loud," I explained, and thought about it. Carl was on probation but it makes me get a migraine just trying to figure it out, so instead of causing myself pain that isn't worth it, I just leave the mess, that is Coco and Carl, alone. _

_Oh, never mind. It was too good to be true._

_They're on the other side of the dance floor, dancing, and sharing cookie dough. But if they're happy, then let's pan over into something else. _

…

…

…

_BOOYAH! _

_The camera person is awesome at capturing money shots. _

_This is EXACTLY what I wanted to see. _

_A slow song is being sung by Backflesh while Logan and Stacey are dancing. Logan's silently saying, "Please kill me. Please, just kill right now." I know this because I think the exact same thing when I'm trapped in my grandmother house overnight. I swear, I saw a cauldron in her basement one day. _

_I know I did. And I wouldn't be surprised if the broom could fly either._

_Stacy looked like she'd won a million cotton swabs and she's grinning from ear-to-ear. I can't help but laugh. _

"_I'm assuming the guy is Logan?"_

"_Yep, the one that comes to me every Friday. But the girl is definitely not his girlfriend."_

_Actually, I handed it to Gary, and he put it beside the tray. I shifted my position a little, and it seemed natural for Gary to rest his hand on my belly. He smiled, feeling Erin kick against his hand because I felt her kick from the inside. He stroked my stomach and it felt really good. _

"_You smell so good. Like cinnamon sticks," Stacy said, lifting her head from Logan's shoulder…which leads me to one question: Was she sniffing him? And why? _

_Okay, that was two. _

_Logan's not going to be nice. _

_No, he won't. _

"_Uh, thanks?"_

_Stacy pulled away, and then I knew that Logan couldn't be nice, and level-headed anymore. He couldn't keep that calm façade anymore. Anger Management, much?_

"_Now, let's see if your lips taste like cinnamon sticks."_

_Before I could blink, Stacy tried to…KISS LOGAN? That would be like lip-rape. My jaw dropped. I'm sure Quinn would put a laser to her ass, and then look away innocently like nothing happened. _

"_Oh, crap. He's not going to be anymore," I sighed, and it felt like a slight horror movie. Almost like a train wreck. I kid you not. I had to peek through my fingers for about thirty seconds. And then I felt bad for Stacy. She came on way too strong, but in Logan's defence, he hates having his space invaded. Very territorial. _

_I've seen territorial animals, and usually to mark their territory, they pee on everything they claim so it makes me wonder if Logan – NO! I just caught up to my thought processes. _

_BACKSPACE! DELETE! Virtual eraser! Stupid thoughts running away again. _

_Okay, back to the movie._

_Logan pushed her away, wiping his lips vigorously, "I don't want to kiss you!"_

_Gary looked genuinely shocked at what he was watching, "Wow, you have your work cut out for you."_

"_Told you. Soap opera."_

_And Stacy looked wondrously oblivious. At least, she got the memo that you're not supposed to kiss someone with dry lips. It's like sucking on sandpaper. It's gross and it probably hurts too. So Stacy, I give you props for that little bit of knowledge. Moist lips are ideal. End of story. _

_I almost had to slap myself because I couldn't even begin to process everything. _

_I seriously thought I had gone deaf, but it actually felt like it had gone up a few decibels. _

"_Because I love Quinn!"_

_Nope. That's what I thought he said. _

_Stacy looked like Logan had really wounded her, and the music abruptly stopped. I think if I were standing right there, the sound of me doing a palm to forehead motion would be echoed. I probably would have attempted to bail him out, but wouldn't be able to. _

_Admission of love to the entire grade and blowing the whole secret relationship thing?_

_Yep, the Bail Out Boat has sailed. _

_I know they love each other. It's not word of mouth. I actually see it, as cliché and corny as that sounds, it's true. I just hope to God they're not scrutinized for this. But Stacy looked like she could burst into tears any minute. I think she did have genuine feelings for Logan. But that's just it…he's Logan and he won't return them. _

_It's sad and I feel really bad for her. _

_Stacy deserves a FREAKING HAPPY ENDING!_

_I will now take a deep, calming breath because I know she got one with Mark last yesterday. Irony at its best. _

"_What?"_

"_You love Quinn?"_

_No shit, Brad. Brad Taylor. Basketball team member. _

_He just clearly declared his love for the girl across the room. Logan looked stunned at his own actions, and I think he realized he was in too deep to dig himself out. He didn't listen to my warning to lay off the impulsiveness, but it worked out in his favour. I know he did, because he dodges more bullets than a normal person should. For once, I'm glad he didn't listen and threw everything I said out the window. I think the camera person looked jarred but the way he panned over to Quinn in her quite stunning blue dress in zero to three seconds flat. She stood looking a cross between embarrassed and quite sheepish. _

"_That's Quinn, right?" Gary questioned. _

_I nodded, sniffling slightly. I told you I cry over everything, "Yeah, that's the girl he's in love with."_

"_I could tell," Gary replied, a smile tugging at his lips, and shrugged. "It's a guy thing when he finds the girl of his heart. I'm just glad I crashed into mine."_

"_Were you just born spouting modern-day Shakespeare?"_

"_If you like it, then yes. I was."_

_Ah, you big romantic, you. _

_Okay, back to the movie. PAN BACK, PLEASE!_

_Thank you, camera dude. _

"_Yeah…that's right. I LOVE QUINN PENSKY!"_

"_AND I LOVE LOGAN REESE!"_

_They had these big smiles of relief as if they were saying, "Yeah. We're dating. We did it."_

_Oh, hush, Dustin. You have Sienna._

_Then like any classic fairytale ending, they ran to each other. For some odd reason, I always imagined they'd be running through a meadow of flowers in slow motion. Nevertheless, they met halfway with a kiss. _

_You don't even understand what I'm feeling right now._

_Tears are streaming down my face, and I'm grinning like an idiot. _

_Gary laughed quietly, using his thumbs to wipe the tears away. _

"_Oh, Laura."_

_You don't even understand. I'm crying tears of joy right now. To actually give you a taste how I feel, it's watching caterpillars go through the transition of breaking free and being two butterflies. Logan would probably be the one butterfly who wouldn't want to fly all the way to Mexico when winter came around. He wouldn't want his wings to get all tired and droopy. _

_Quinn would find a way to make him. _

_Quinn (exasperated eye roll): Logan, stop being a caterpillar. I love you, regardless of how your wings may look like. _

_Logan: Say it. My wings are hot. Well…(smirks) next to yours. _

_Quinn (sigh): Your wings are quite attractive and I'm not letting you freeze to death. _

_Logan: You love me too much. _

_Quinn: Does Newton have three laws of motion? (Logan looks confused, before she clarifies for him with a soft smile) Yes. I love you._

_END SCENE/FUNNY THOUGHT. _

_Okay, that was weird. _

_It wasn't The Notebook, but it was just as good. _

It's a sunny Monday morning, and I'm trying to organize my jungle of an office, as previously mentioned. The PCA campus has changed a lot in the span of one weekend. There are so much paper splayed across my desk and I can't even begin to tell you what papers go where. The only organized thing I'd say is probably is the computer because well, it's a machine and it organizes itself.

I'm surprised I don't have a paper cut yet with the way I'm going through papers. It feels like I'm drowning in thinly, very thinly cut trees. If you were standing from the outside, you would have seen various papers flying around like confetti. It doesn't feel like I'm drowning anymore. Now, I'm actually drowning.

I want to do the following:

A) Scream.

B) Laugh at the picture of Julie drinking her lemonade (plus back wash, let's not forget) as it loops over and over in my head.

C) Sleep.

D) All of the above.

And then my seemingly bad day just got worse. Wanna know what made it bad in the first place?

I woke feeling like Erin somehow shifted and she decided to plant her feet on my back somewhere, so the throbbing was now reduced to a gentle buzz. I actually came in late to work because of it. It felt like I was in labour already, but Karen told me it was it was normal. And it would pass in about an hour. Luckily, the PhD is worth something because she was right.

Since when is dangling something like childbirth in our faces normal? It's not. Nature is a fucking bitch like that. I'm in sailor mode. Leave me alone!

But it's cruel though. False hope isn't funny. Ron spraining his finger when he slams it in the car door is funny. He's crying, but in a sick, twisted way, it amuses me. I was fourteen and the remains of my deranged self came and stuck with me up until right now.

Or it could be that I age down, instead of up. But I'm royally mad, and trying to breathe as evenly as possible. Pregnancy really limits me.

Traffic was complete and utter shit. I'm not sugar coating it. Damn rush hour.

And then I was peeved, and I figured green tea would calm me down. I mean, it tastes pretty great. It's healthy and there are antioxidants.

Yeah, none of that either!

So, I'm not happy! And my desk looked like a tornado blew through it…more than once!

Those are the factors that made my Monday completely sour, even though half of the kids on the campus are nursing a two day hangover. How do you continue to be hung-over for two days? Usually, there's the initial buzz of being wasted. Everything is easier to tolerate, and everything is funnier. No matter what the situation is, you will laugh. And it doesn't matter who it is, the most irritating is your best bud until you realize the creep you're dancing with tries to get in your pants.

But yeah, being drunk may feel this. Okay, what the hell… it does feel nice, until you're puking your guts out the next morning. And you feel like lead.

Just don't drink any cold water when you're hung-over.

It makes that drunken feeling come on again, and you're not buzzed so you'll feel like complete and utter shit. I'm not in the sugar coding mode this morning.

"Okay, what happened here?"

Looking up, I sighed in frustration. I'm just frustrated because I want to get organized. I always knew I had disorganized tendencies, but this is just ridiculous.

"Chase, I think I made my office angry."

He chuckled, and walked in, sipping coffee. I love him but I envy him.

His eyes surveyed the office and he grinned, "I can see that. It must be furious with you."

But I kind of don't, but he looked wrecked. Prom was on Saturday, so why was it that two days later, he looked like he was still tired and hung over. There were bags under his eyes, you can't see that up close but you know they're still there.

"Why do you look like the undead?"

"Well, you know, it was my first night back at PCA, and you know…" he trailed off, looking sheepish before he let out a quiet sigh and rubbed his green eyes.

"You did some alcohol taste testing, didn't you?"

"You can say that. Smirnoff and Bacardi is a deadly mix," Chase said, looking thoughtful, and threw took his final sip of coffee, throwing the now empty cup in my trashcan. At least that wasn't spewing everywhere. That would have been unpleasant gross – grosser than my high math teacher's mole, and trust me, when I say it's way up there on the gross scale.

The first time, Stan saw it, and he went a little green while stuttering, "2x + 8y."

I just ran away and puked because it was just that hideous. No lie.

Aside from Mrs. Alder's mole with the long hairs sticking out of it, my desk looks like it's in possession and sadly; I can't exorcise it because I made it messy in the first place.

Yep.

Shame on me.

Stupid desk: a number too high to count.

Laura: a number too disappointingly low.

"Yeah, I could, but you just got wasted at the after party, didn't you?"

"If you don't tell my parents, then I'll just tell you right now that yes, I got drunk. The real nice haze, the incoherent speech and the puking that seems contagious yesterday," he explained, getting a look of remembrance and slight disgust. "To kill the boredom, and face the fact that we couldn't move besides racing each other to see who could get to the bathroom first, we actually made it a game to see who could go the longest without hurling."

Only boys would make up a game like that. I mean, why can't you play fifty-two pick up or go fish?

Oh, wait. That would require them to, you know, move. But still.

"Okay, one," I made a face that showed disgust, but I laughed a little. "Ew. And two…" Damn, curiosity of mine. I swear, if I was, I'd be dead. But then it's the whole nine lives thing, so I'd be alive and scratching, and possibly purring if I really dug you. But mostly scratching. "Who cracked first?"

"Logan, and then Michael like mere seconds after."

Obviously.

Logan may be in shape, but his stomach is weak. And Michael…well…sometimes his brain doesn't live in harmony with his body, and it does goes in twenty different directions.

"I won," Chase told me, proudly, and we did our secret handshake. Out of boredom one summer, we were thumb wrestling and came up with it. It just stuck. "Okay, I almost forgot why I came here…" he trailed off going into his back pocket, and handed me a sheet of paper folded into fourths. You know, I'm so stupid. Why didn't I think of this before? I should just take a flame thrower to all of these papers. It's fun…and dangerous, but nonetheless fun, and my desk would be miraculously clean. Chase spoke again, putting my flamethrower dreams on hold.

Don't worry I'll get to them. I would love my own flame thrower. I'm not a pyromaniac.

Well, I wasn't now. But when I was younger, I played with firecrackers, lighters, and lit things (nothing big, just a couple of Barbies because I have deep-seeded resentment for the girls like her

I had to put up with in high school – not healthy but what the hell) on fire because the burning and the way the flames bended burned everything. It just tripped me out.

And was one of the few things that could hold my attention for a really long time.

There's a family rumour going around that I lit my grandmother's car (yep, psycho granny's the one. My dad's mother on the other hand was a saint) on fire because she woke up and one side of her…Evil Mobile was burnt. She swears she saw me do it, but I was asleep.

Told you she hates me.

Oh, well. She's senile. And dead in the cold, deep ground. Let's not forget that.

And she's senile.

Taking the paper from him, I opened it and scanned it quickly, before looking up at him, "Okay, so this is from the housing office saying that you've moved back into your old dorm because well…James transferred out."

Truthfully, Debra (you all know her as Mrs. Burvich) isn't that creepy when you get to know her, but the monotone frown look works for her.

She smiled one day and I flinched involuntarily. I kid you not. It reminded me vaguely of a facial tick, and I know I'm going to hell for thinking that, but I guess I get points for honesty, therefore it cancels out.

But on the subject of James…

I hope he comes back. I'm really praying he comes back.

"Yeah," Chase answered, looking suddenly awkward. He shrugged absentmindedly. "You probably won't tell me but just out of curiosity and slight pestering, do you know why he might've transferred out of PCA?"

"I'm not telling you that," I said, shortly, and opened my drawer searching for a pen before I found my purple one. And then I wanted to know why Chase wanted to know. I wasn't going to betray James' confidence because there's so trust I carry in this school, but I wanted to know what was going through that bushy head of his. My eyebrow rose in questioning, I just asked him, "Why wouldn't you want to know something like that?"

"Because I guess in some freaky, twisted, non-logical way, I owe him. I know he cared for Zoey."

I told him to turn around, so I could sign the housing office document because things like this go through guidance, and then back to the housing office. And I used his back as something to press on.

"I feel sort of guilty, because he probably wasn't a jerk, even if it's just by word of mouth."

And I'm confused, so you'd better explain before I end up getting a brain aneurysm.

"Care to explain?"

"I can't, really, but when I do attempt to put together whatever explanation seems plausible, then you'll be the first to know," he assured me, and I nodded. Oh, wow. Everyone was right. We do look alike. Chase could easily pass for my younger brother because I just figured out I was eleven when he was born.

Yep. September 23, 1991. And Robyn was born December 18, 1992, so it works out.

"So, what are your plans for the summer? A little birdie told me you were going to be with Zoey in Maui for the entire summer," I hinted, slightly singing it, and I nudged him.

A slight blush took over his face, and playfully rolled his eyes, "Does this birdie happen to be someone I know?"

CoughthewholegroupandZoeybecauseshelovesyoucough.

So yes.

"Psh, no…" I answered, and tapped the side of my head. "Guidance counselor is the closest thing to being omnipresent, duh."

"That's a creepy thought," he replied, with a laugh, and then softened. "But if you're seven months pregnant, can't you go into labour like…any time from now?"

"Yeah, specifically in July. Your mom is basically the Commander of this whole thing."

Somewhere between the July 3 and July 11.

I did the estimate on the internet because it's just resourceful like that – but yeah, I'm pretty sure it's somewhere around there.

"I'll be there," he promised, with a nod. "Zoey and I talked it over, and we're going to working together. I get to swim around and make sure people don't die in the pool. She'll fly out with me to be here when you go into labour. I've already missed four months, and I'm sure the boss will be lenient enough. I want to be there when Erin's born."

A smile played up on my lips, "And how would you know where to find me?"

"Easy," he shrugged, nonchalantly. "Follow the direction of the scared nurses and the sound of you screaming a bunch of stuff you'll probably kick yourself for later."

You know, I'll probably be doing that.

But in my own defense, I can't be blamed for that. For crying out, I'm the one blowing up. I'm the one who going to be pushing a baby – another person, mind you – out of me.

I think I'll be allowed to get a little psychotic.

You know what? I take that back.

I _am_ allowed to be psychotic when I deliver. So, ha!

"That's probably true. Now, I'm hungry, and still mad that I can't have any green tea…"

Everything looks messy, yet I can find everything usually. Now, I lose out because not only is the surface and insides of my desk looking hideous – like I do when I only get two hours of sleep. I feel gross on the inside and on the outside, and I feel like snapping people's necks. But I can't do that. I'll get to jail sentenced with manslaughter or something like that – I don't really follow law – and orange isn't my colour.

I did, however, put it out there that Eleanor's 'motivation' policy was a load of shit, and she should hop on her brontosaurus or go play some bingo because nobody cares.

Sure, I got kudos, but Dean Rivers sent me home early. I was just that irritable.

Well, hello! I'm gross. I'm newly pregnant and blowing chunks every morning. Afternoon, and sometimes in the evening too.

WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!

They would probably want me to run through a wide meadow of flowers that are the product of my overactive imagination.

"Wow, and I thought I was bad," my nephew muttered. "Well, you have a paper shredder, don't you?"

Wait. Wait. Wait a minute! I can shred the stuff I don't want and use it for makeshift confetti because I'm cheap like that. Who the hell actually goes and buys confetti? I'll tell you.

People with extra money to burn and low productivity.

I'm going to have fun with this. I fired up the paper shredder and the paper went through. I had to do it, sitting because my ankles seriously felt swollen. Erin kicked again, and I smiled, knowing that she was around and literally kicking.

"And that is why you're my favourite bushy-haired nephew."

"I'm your only bushy-haired nephew," he clarified joking. That's how we are. Chase and I have a relationship that almost never serious. We laughed a lot, but when things got serious, then I would flip into Aunt Laura mode like that. I'd snap my fingers for emphasis. "I'm gonna go ask for my job back, and then go compensate for a sushi date gone bad. No computers, annoying roommate, inevitable internal murder case, and no annoying tech support guy," he rattled off by counting on his fingers.

I'm shredding.

And shredding.

I must have the shortest span, but I looked up long enough to realize that Chase was talking to me. But God, this is fun. I mean, it's not as fun as the flamethrower, but you know me. I'm a go with the flow girl.

"I'll leave you to shred away, since you have this excitement in your eyes," he said, with another laugh escaping him.

I swear, I'm not crazy. This is actually fun and completely cancels out the crappy morning.

Oh, don't look at me like that. You know if you were in my position, you wouldn't think I wasn't so weird and out there. What am I saying?

Show of hands? Who thinks I'm quite zany and eccentric, with random tendencies?

…

…

Okay, then. Case closed.

"Okay, awesome," I acknowledged. This shredding will take a while. "We'll talk okay?"

"I don't have a choice, but I'm happy to," he answered, looking at his watch, and pulled the knob of my office door, so the door opened. He sighed, dramatically. "Time to go grovel."

Then grovel away.

He left, and I went back to shredding.

I should sing while I shred.

--

_**Week Seven: Tuesday**_

_It's our last ensemble performance as a crew before we go off to college. _

_Leah, Stan and I move to California. Leah and I are roomies, but Stan goes off to Stanford, while we're at UCLA. _

_Thomas and Anna are moving to New York together, because they both have similar dreams. He's always spouting off stuff about becoming an artist, and she wants to own a gallery one day. But we're waiting backstage waiting for our cue, and maybe, just maybe, we can win instead of just being in second place. It's hard to leave anything you love behind, but when you've been dancing together for six years, it just sucks. Dancing is what we do; we eat it, we live it, and we practically breathe it. Thinking about that, I feel like crying, but I have to be strong and lead. I don't think of myself as a leader, but everyone else does._

_Bella's moving to Florida, because she got into college there. _

"_Okay, so we gotta go out there, and just rip it."_

"_Even though we'll probably come in second again?" Bella's soft voice questioned, her dark brown eyes flickering in my direction. She was a shy girl, who was sort of a loner when she joined, but dancing brings people together, and she's the most athletic girl we've got. It's like she completely switches on a different persona when she's on stage with us. _

_I'm flexible. And I think of myself a bit of a contortionist. _

_And Leah's the theatrical dancer, but she pop and locks too. _

"_It sucks, okay?" Leah spoke up, taking charge. I could see the tears shining in her eyes but she's not the type of person to show feelings. Yeah, one of things is crying. "But this is our last performance, so let's make it work. Then we're going for pizza because I wanna eat afterwards."_

"_Isn't that a surprise?" Stan quipped, rolling his eyes. "You always wanna eat! That'll never change."_

"_And you still sleep with your Mr. Moo-Moo, so shut up!"_

"_Laura!" Stan cried, looking like I had betrayed him. "You told her about Mr. Moo-Moo?!"_

_It's our last performance together before we all go off to college and get jobs…careers, whatever. And I can't have them fighting over whether or not I told Leah about his beloved stuffed cow. _

_The fact he's eighteen doesn't matter. _

_Okay, it does. But now isn't the time. _

_Luckily, Anna jumped in before I could say anything as Thomas' arm was around her. Oh, yeah. They're a couple. _

"_Hey!" she cut in, loudly. Anna was a girl that was happy-go-lucky girl, and moved from Hawaii to Boston. She always has some kind of flowered clip in her dark hair. Might been a Hawaiian thing, but I dig Hawaiians so it's a win-win. Thomas was a pale, tall and guy. He looked about six-two and like he would crush me with a stomp of his foot, but he's a sweetie. _

_Leah, Bella, and I love him. Not the Anna does, but yeah, we love him._

"_Can you get along?" Stan and Leah shot her a glance. It's been six years. It's typical for them to argue. I've dealt with that for seven years. Anna caught their looks, and sighed dramatically. "Okay, fake it and then kill each other later."_

"_Just wipe the blood splatter," I added. _

"_I was just going to suggest that, but not in morbid terms," Thomas spoke, his dark eyebrows drawing together in slight amusement and confusion, and he laughed, his arm lazily around Anna's petite frame. _

"_Next we have Boston's own Fatality, dancing to a master mix of Queen's classic, __**We Are The Champions**__! Make some noise for your hometown heroes!"_

"_Yes, saved by the cue," Bella added, while Leah and Stan glared at each other before we left the backstage area to dance one final time._

_And let me tell you, it was better than any high out there. _

_The music telling us what to do, and how to move. _

_The heavy hip-hop back beats blended with Freddie Mercury's voice, and remembering the choreography was a distant memory. The six of us just moved in sync and danced for the love of dance. _

_I was going to miss that. _

We won that competition.

It was a cloudy Tuesday morning, and the school year was winding down.

At thirty weeks (can you believe it? I'm due in exactly two months…mindboggling stuff), I showed no signs of slowing down, but still Dean Rivers came in to talk about what was going to happen for next year, and things were going to be run.

I'll agree to anything, but I don't want to be gone for more than four months, because I want to get the dance class started as soon as possible for next year.

"Okay, so what do you plan on doing from now onward?" Dean Rivers questioned me.

"Well, I'm due in July, I know that," I answered. I am so stupid. I haven't planned anything with Gary yet. If he was going to stay off work longer than me, or if it was going to be the way around. He's half responsible for this baby and I didn't even plan anything with him! Dean Rivers nodded. "But honestly, I don't know what's going to happen from then on. I do want to discuss this with my husband, so he can work something out regarding his job too."

"Laura – "

I cut him off, remembering something, "I would request that I don't be gone for more than three months. I do want to start the dance class as soon as possible, while being the guidance counselor at the same time. Will I still get paid while on maternity leave?"

I'd better.

"Yes. You'll still get paid. But we allowed Elizabeth to stay on maternity leave for roughly a year."

That's Mrs. Donovan, history teacher.

"Are you sure?"

I'm perfectly healthy with functional limbs, a cardio system, my respiratory system knows what to do, and my reproductive system is busy. It has been for the past seven or so months. But let me get one thing straight okay, Dean Rivers?

I'm pregnant. Not dead. Even after death, I don't know if life is final then. It could go on.

Maybe.

"I insist," I told him, with a smile of assurance. I'd be way too bored being at home for a year. Sure, I'll love spending time and just bonding with my daughter, but I'll seriously miss PCA to the point to where it'll probably drive me crazy. I think I'm addicted. I'm not sure. I was adamant. "I'll be back in three months."

So, from July to late-October, I'm off work.

Dean Rivers sighed, and put out his hand for me to shake, and I took it. Wow, he needs a touch of lotion, and I wouldn't recommend he rub those hands together because it might start a fire. Just to be polite, I'll take the ashy hand, smile brightly and shake back.

I don't want to be fired for criticizing a man, who can't use lotion, but if that were to happen –

(God forbid)

Even though, I was to lose my job, I'd kind of like the whole "If Laura goes, we all go," rebellion. I know, I know, I'm getting a big head.

"You have a deal."

"Okay."

Can I have my soft, lotioned hand back? Thank you.

I craned my neck far enough to see Quinn, standing there waiting for me to be finished with Dean Rivers. And thankfully, I was, because Quinn looked really sad. You'd think that there would be relief because usually when a secret is held in, and it drives someone mad, then that's bad. And for someone in their situation, I thought it would be like total cruising but it was, judging by the slight frown on her features.

"Laura, we'll talk," Dean Rivers said, as he walked out of my office. He met Quinn on his way out. "Quinn."

"Dean Rivers," she replied, curtly with a small smile before he left completely, and she let her smile fade and sat in the chair, facing my desk.

"Quinn, what's wrong?"

"I'm fine," she told me, and let out a sigh. "It's the boyfriend of mine that has suddenly gone all mute, like he's in a state of shock. I feel really sad right now. I even initiated the whole make out deal, and he didn't take it!" Quinn corrected herself, when she saw my confusion and clarified it for me. "I mean, I like kissing Logan and just being with him, so it's not forced or anything. Even simplistic conversations between us are significant."

Yeah, Logan would jump at a chance to do that.

"Well, you came to the conclusion that he was sad because you just know him that well?" I prodded, and then I mentally kicked myself.

Quinn has many ways to find out what she wants. And some of them are probably prohibited by law for discussion.

You're asking how I know something like this, right?

Because she told me herself. That's why. She's crossed federal law for crying out loud.

"That, and – " Oh, dear. Why do I pry at these things? Oh yeah, it's my job. She started explaining it to me. " – my latest Quinnvention, mood pops. They're like mood rings, but in lollipop form. Though actual lollipops are sweetened and they basically erode the enamel and make the teeth sensitive, these don't. There's no sugar, and no guilt. The lollipop changes colour too."

And before I could basically yell at myself, for questioning it, I did.

Quinn, I love you, really, but not only are some of the inventions dangerous…but they also trip me out.

I don't want to question it, and what do I do?

I question it. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

"How?"

She waved a hand, dismissively, "Oh, that's easy. The fructose compound reacts with the temperature of your taste buds, and secreted hormones like serotonin and the endorphins."

If anyone happens to write a Quinn Pensky-dictionary one day, _I_ will worship the ground that person walks on. There was silence for about thirty seconds, and then I smiled, nodding like I understood what she had just said.

"Ohh, right. I get it."

Quinn's smart. Smart enough to see that she had just said was like a third world language. Like a futuristic version of Webster.

She stared at me deadpanned, and a small smile started to grow on her face, "You didn't get it."

No use in winging it now. It's like dancing. You know the choreography or you don't.

"Nope, but I'm curious to know what colour Logan's mood lollipop changed to."

"Blue," she answered, going all sad again. "It means his endorphins are at a low point, and he's not happy at all. You know what the troubling thing is, Laura? I think he was crying. I'm frustrated because I want to help. I want to help him, but it's like he's pushing me away. It's not intentional but I've done everything I could."

Logan's not a crying guy. He's just not, but I know he's human and prone to feelings like that.

Logan Reese Fact of the Day: He may not look like it, but he does really takes family to heart.

"I've never skipped school before but I think I will. He needs it, and I really don't want Logan to be alone," she resolved, letting a deep sigh. "I care about him deeply."

Trust me. He cares about you a lot as well.

"Quinn, you and I know Logan's a…" I wanted to say stubborn and resilient personality, but I had to choose my words carefully. I don't know exactly why, though. "…dominant personality, but you have to give him time to process what happened, because obviously did. He loves you, and when he's ready, he'll confide in you. I can guarantee you that."

Quinn smiled, and her eyes lit up. There was a tinge of pink in her cheeks, "I know that. I know that now. Prom was amazing."

Yes. Yes, it was. Michael pretty much danced to anything, and hung out on the floor the entire night.

And then there was the unfortunate…quite nasty incident with the tray of ravioli when Coco ate it, and then…threw it all up, just before prom was over. She wasn't even hung over or wasted to begin with.

Or as Quinn would say, " – produced a really gross upchuck of week old ravioli and pie."

It was still gross, and totally something Coco-esque.

Quinn stood up, putting her backpack over her shoulder, "Yeah, it was. Well, I'm going to check on my helium oxide mixture and make it sure it's okay, before I swing over to Logan's dorm again. See you later, Laura."

"Goodbye, Quinn," I replied, and she left, closing my door behind her. I let out a sigh, running a hand through my hair.

I was genuinely concerned about Logan, but I was sure I'd find out about it on Friday. I learned two things today: it was going to be a long Tuesday, and…I was craving serious nachos.

Yep, I'm feeling like nachos.

--

_**Week Seven: Wednesday**_

_I actually made up my mind I was going to tell Gary about how I basically contaminated Julie's lemonade with my own spit at dinner. _

_Oh, come on. It was a riot. And clearly, the five-year-old inner child in me was happy. No time out chair when you're twenty-eight. Take that, Mrs. Rosenthal! _

_God bless your heart, and no hard feelings about making me share my animal crackers with Adam the nose picker, but still, I schooled you even though it's been over twenty years._

"_Hey, remember dinner on Saturday?" I brought up, casually, making my husband look up from his paper work. He smiled, slightly amused, and answered with a snort. _

"_In which you and my sister might have thrown it down, if you weren't pregnant?" he replied. He shuffled more papers, spinning the pen casually between his fingers. "Oh, yeah. I definitely won't forget that, so what's up? Are you okay?"_

"_Yes."_

_He stared at me fully looking up from what he was doing, "Is Erin okay?"_

_We already talk about her like she's real. He kisses her goodnight and every cute. Gary's lips on my belly makes me laugh, because I'm so ticklish it's just ridiculous._

"_Yes, she's fine, and being oddly mellow today. But she's thumping me every so often."_

"_So, why the sudden bring up of dinner?"_

_Okay, I'm just going to come right out, and say it. I'm probably going to get a cross of that gaping fish look, and the look where it feels like your heart somersaulted in your chest. He asked the question with amusement when he went back to shuffling more paper work. Most likely something to do with bills and work. A lovely cross of both. _

_See, I'm smart. I shredded what I didn't want and kept what I did. _

_Then I felt kind of bad, because of all of the trees I might have murdered. I guess, environmentally, PETA and WWF (not the wrestling kind!) must think I'm a terrible and awful person. _

_But I'm awesome for doing what I did. _

_**But it was wrong,**__ my conscience says. I really thought I locked it away a looong time ago._

_She totally deserved it. She called me fat. _

_**But it was wrong. **_

_Yeah, it was totally karma or kismet…or whatever that philosophy is because I'm pretty sure it's the same thing. _

_**IT'S WRONG! **_

_Shut up, CONSCIENCE!_

_**For future reference, I told you so,**__ my conscience huffs and somewhat fades away._

_Go to hell. It's nice and warm down there. Stupid voice in my head. _

_It makes me jealous of Pinocchio sometimes. At least his conscience is a cricket. If Jiminy Cricket gets too annoying, the puppet can just crush it with his long nose. The little liar…_

_Yes, I'm clearly losing what sanity is if I'm arguing with myself. I sighed, "Okay, I'm just going to come right out and tell you that while everyone left the table, I backwashed Julie's lemonade and watched drink all of it when you guys came back."_

_I don't even know how long Gary gaped at me, but he finally found the ability to talk again._

"_Why?"_

_I shrugged, and kissed his cheek, "Because it was the right thing to do."_

_It was either that or go to jail. I'm claustrophobic and I think I'd end up getting into a cell fight because I hate having my space invaded, so solitary confinement? Yeah. Don't think so. _

_Stripes are just terrible, and the orange jumpsuits don't make things better._

_He rubbed a hand over his eyes, which looked at me with question. He cringed because I think he was imagining it. But a long held breath left him, "Okay, we're not telling her that…as long as you're sorry and – " Gary stopped, catching my deadpanned stare. Are you serious? Julie and sorry don't coincide with each other. _

_Hell, I would have even put gum in her hair, or red biting ants in her pants. _

_I saw two problems with those plans, though. _

_One: I wasn't chewing any, and I was jealous of her hair. It would be a crime to mess that hair even though it was on an undeserving head. _

_Two: Yeah, uhm, I don't know where I'm going to get ants that bite besides Quinn. And I'm sure she'll give me a poison tarantula instead. I don't like her, but I definitely don't want Julie dead. That's cold – even for my standards. And she wasn't wearing pants anyway._

_My husband snapped his fingers with recognition, "Oh. Right. The rivalry. But you are sorry, right?"_

"_Honey, you don't know me at all, do you?"_

"_Okay, I'll take that as a no, but we're not telling her you did that."_

"_Oh, trust me," I agreed, wholeheartedly. "I'm way ahead of you there."_

I had nothing better to do on one of those lazy, quiet Wednesdays than to check my e-mail.

Honestly, the school seemed to be at a recession, where everything was just mellow, teachers included. It was a blah day. And the sky was just a dull blue, no clouds that I could actually stare at and make into stuff I liked.

But it wasn't so bad. I'm sitting here, eating noodles and honey garlic chicken with a pair of chopsticks. Oh, yeah. Leah was right. Food just makes everything better, and I was a happy Laura. With the power of multitasking –

Oh, yeah. I've mastered that.

Awesomeness to the trillionth power, baby!

I was checking my e-mail, and I realized that there were new e-mails that seemed to have piled up overnight.

First one. My sister-in-law, Karen.

Chase's mom, just in case you were lost.

**Hey Laura, **

**I've got to go really quick. Apparently, parents don't understand the whole importance of NOT buying toys with small parts. So, I've got to deal with a kid who swallowed one of the parts. **

**And then I have a 2:00pm colonoscopy to administer. Lovely. **

I've seen commercials involving old people. It's a stereotypical thing, but I've seen it.

And actually I feel worse for the skinny camera that has to endure staying and looking at the warm recesses of someone's ass.

I shudder, seriously.

**But there's a reason I e-mailed you. **

**I got the pictures of the sonogram you requested. I'll bring them over tonight for your baby book. I know how excited you are. I was until my children morphed into dreaded teenagers and didn't need Mommy anymore. **

Um, are you trying to depress me here? Because it's not working. See, I'm a cool person, therefore, I'll be a cool, easy going, but firm mom. It's all gonna work out.

All in the long term. I think I have a good fifteen years before I worry. I just remembered what my dad used to say to my dates when I was in high school.

"_Look, kid," his gruff voice sounded, holding a threatening ring to it. "Have my daughter home by ten. I have three boys who will gladly beat you senseless if anything happens to her."_

_Potential date would look like he crapped his pants, and I'd sigh and roll my eyes. _

"_Yes, Mr. Matthews, sir. I'll have Laura home by ten."_

"_On the dot. Not 10:01, not 10:02, understand? I have a forty-five and a shovel if she's not home. I don't think anyone would miss you."_

_And the date laughs like my dad's kidding, but he's not. _

_There really is a hunting rifle in the shed. _

I shook myself out of it, and continued to scroll down and read.

**Yeah, so I'll bring those over for you. **

**We'll talk. **

**-Karen**

**PS. Chase is at PCA. Give him hell for me, will you? And Robyn is SO busted with the belly button piercing. Don't vouch for her. **

Yikes. And that means she knew I knew about the whole thing in the first place.

Well, Robyn told me in confidence, so I can't be executed for doing my job even though it's a personal thing.

NEXT!

Email numero dos. From Leah. Surprise, surprise.

**Currently, I'm eating a carton of ice-cream. I'm sad. Therefore I eat.**

Um, you eat regardless of what you're feeling. When we were eleven, she high jacked my spaghetti and told me the 'Spaghetti Fairy' ate it, yet she's wearing meat sauce on her face, and her breath reeks of oregano and basil.

Yeah…and I live next door to Prince William and Kate Middleton is my BFF.

Ah, Leah's my BFF. My crazy, poorly mannered, abrasive BFF.

**Laura, men are stupid, okay? **

**So, Robert basically asked me to marry him. I know! I'm on my way to that tan line! **

**YEEAHHH! And you're SO maid of honour. I can't ask anyone else. That's like a crime. **

Damn, straight. Because she was my maid of honour at my wedding. I still don't understand why she thinks men are stupid. Well, I don't understand half the things Leah thinks.

We're both random and weird, but it's of a different pedigree. That's why I don't get it.

But I love her.

**So, remember Sunday afternoon when we actually told Stan about Veronica cheating on him, and the asshole (yes, he IS an asshole! Don't defend him this time!) went berserk on us? **

I sighed, rolling my eyes. I was still mad about that. I was mad, Leah was _furious_. I mean, why the hell was he getting at us? We were trying to help him, and he has the balls (or whatever Veronica left) to get mad at us because he knows we never liked Veronica.

And now, he's mad because Leah and I "conspiring" to stop him from marrying "the woman he loves".

Oh, yeah. Being with the girl that's had her tongue every other guy's throat before yours just screams, "I love you." Bullshit.

Stan's just asking for a case of cold sores, before he realizes that we were right this entire time.

There's more to Leah's e-mail and I'm reading. It's unusually long, and it's not making me laugh at all like it usually does.

**Yeah, so yesterday we were arguing over this again. I gave up, because it didn't surprise me that he was such a loser. But I swear, Laura. I was SO angry. I was so mad, I just wanted to shake him senseless, and basically scream, "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" **

**So I did. And it was so tense in there; I wish you had been there. **

**Now, I have to wear the ring, and feel guilty when I see Robert. I suck. I'm just a horrible person. I wait all this time to get engaged, and then stupid Stan comes along and it's all over. I hate him. I hate the whole situation. **

**It was like that Christmas party, but almost this time, I didn't gargle with mouthwash. **

**I kissed Stan back. **

**And I liked it. I cheated on my man, and I liked it. **

I almost choked on my honey garlic chicken, and noodle, and instantly guzzled down half of my water bottle. Leah…and Stan together? Kissing? It just didn't register with me, and there was one curveball I knew I couldn't dodge.

I knew their arguing lead to physical violence and other unpretty things, but…wow.

"What?" I questioned, out loud because I was just that confused. "What…oh, God."

Okay, someone has to start talking. My eyes remained wide and almost bugged out of my head. They have got some talking to do.

**Laura, do your psychobabble thing when I come over tonight. I really won't mind it, okay?**

**I'm going to lie down because of the splitting headache, and it's not the brain freeze. **

**-Leah**

I mean, the next e-mail was from James saying he was coming back to PCA for sure, but he just needed to know what he was going to do from there.

OH MY GOD! LEAH AND STAN KISSING?!

It's the apocalypse, and I'm in the middle of it. More fun than a barrel of monkeys, yes?

Okay, I'm skimming, and skimming.

And James has a baby sister. Congrats, kid.

I minimized the e-mail screen, and a more radiant Stacy Dillsen walked in with curly hair, and a bouquet of cotton swabs for me. I noticed her long straight hair was curly and bouncy. About time, she was more confident and losing the lisp made her that way. I noticed people were a lot nicer to me, and on top of that, Mark and Stacey were spending a lot of time together. Were they dating? Or just really close? I don't know.

I was ready to talk to her as she sat in my chair. At least I was ready for Stacy Dillsen as she told me about things I'd never know she was involved with.

And she's from Massachusetts too, so I take that as a personal thing when it comes to Stacy.

Swampscott isn't that far from Boston, just fifteen miles northeast.

So Stacy's an East Coaster like me.

I was ready for that, so I listened as she talked (sans lisp…mind you). So, I really didn't mind it as I finished the last of my lunch but wow…

But I really wasn't ready to get the bomb of Leah and Stan even though it was through an e-mail.

It left me confused and saying, "what the hell?" for the rest of the day.

The world is something like a cocktail: crazy, mixed and all shook up.

--

_**Week Seven: Thursday **_

It was nearing the end of the week.

And I couldn't sleep at all, to be truthfully honest, with you. My back throbbed, and Erin seemed to move around a lot more in the middle of the night more. At least, the four hours of sleep I got between two and six in the morning helped. It was raining when I came in, and I wasn't really in the best of moods right now. I took off my jacket hanging it up on the hook. My head pounded, and my mood soured when I found not the usual students that came up for my help, but a sheepish looking Stan.

I didn't say anything, because there was nothing of me to say. He was happy. He was going to marry her, grow old together and raise llamas in Peru when they hit retirement age. Have a nice life with the llamas. I think my mood soured, even though I didn't want to be mad at someone I'd known my entire life. But I couldn't help it. I crossed my arms, just getting into my office, and fix him with a questioning stare. What was he doing here?

"Look, I know you're pissed off and stuff, and it's not a good time, but I have a lot of stuff to get off my chest about what happened on Sunday, but can…we talk?"

Oh, yeah. Let's talk.

Let's talk about how you went from cool (Leah may dispute that) to Major Ass in three second flat.

Let's talk about how Leah was right and you happened to lose your balls along with your mind.

Let's talk about how freaking angry I am, but I love you enough to make you the godfather of my child. Oh, yeah. There's just so much to talk about that I hardly contain myself, Stan!

Leah's right.

Men are stupid. And by men, I mean Stan.

I moved aside and he stepped in, shutting the door behind him. It's times like this I thank God there's no staff meeting, and the students are half-asleep by this time, so no one here yet. It's like the whole school is just waking up.

Resting my cheek in my hand, I absentmindedly drummed an acrylic nail on the wooden desk that would be moved into my dance classroom or studio…whatever…for next year. I get to come to school in sweats, so it's all good, I guess.

"So?" I started, my voice tight, even though I wanted to be nicer about it. Snaps to him for coming to talk while I was at work. "I'm sitting right here. Talk."

Silence passed for what seemed to be an eternity and then, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things to you guys. I was way out of line, but I was just shocked that you two would spring something like this on me."

Not our fault you were blind as a bat. It's not my fault you can't think for yourself.

"Sorry for caring," I finally replied, snapping slightly. He recoiled back, slightly. "I didn't even know. It was Leah who saw you! And I never liked her anyway. We've been friends forever, and we promised to have each other's back. When we finally do that, you decide to bite our heads off. Well, good for you Stan. I'm proud of you, okay? Your future wife is someone who can't keep her legs shut!"

"I know."

" – so if you land a spot on the Maury Show to find out the paternity of your kid because 'the woman you love' decides to be the town bicycle, then it's your fault – "

"I called off the whole wedding."

I'm not done. Shut up and let me rant, you big goof!

…

Wait, what?

"Huh?" I found myself asking, my rant being abruptly cut off. I softened my tone, and his hazel eyes looked sad, and I found myself being the tiniest bit sympathetic. "You…called off the wedding?"

"Yeah," Stan replied, nodding. And he laughed bitterly. "I'm way too damn naïve for my own good. I saw it: the mysterious excuses, the way she'd come home really late, the way Veronica got all defensive when I questioned where she'd be all night. I saw it but didn't want to believe it. So when Leah came at me when the notion of Veronica cheating, I guess I just snapped. More confirmation of how stupid I was – well, am."

Stupid? Eh, sometimes. But he has to believe in his own intelligence, and he just doesn't.

"You don't need a psychologist to tell you that it's just denial," I reached over and hit his bicep as hard as I could. Because he deserved it for being a goof, and somewhat of a loser, but he's our Stan. Wouldn't be the same. Sitting down and getting comfortable, so my back didn't throb anymore, I started explaining. "I'm sorry about the wedding and everything, even if it was Veronica."

"And then I kissed Leah…oh God," he admitted, sighing. "Leah. The same girl that put mayonnaise in my shoes when we were fourteen, Laura! Why do bad things happen to me?"

Oh, trust me. Leah isn't jumping around either.

"But you liked it."

Stan narrowed his eyes at me, like I had said something wrong, "That is – "

"True?" I offered, casually. I was floored yesterday, but I think I can accept that idea. Well, almost. It'll be weird, but I think I can almost grasp the idea of my two best friends being a couple even though they themselves can't. I told you before; they're like cats and dogs, okay? You put them in a really tight box and shake it up. It's world war three up in here. "Leah's engaged. She's confused out of her mind."

"Well, I'm about to lose mine. This wasn't part of the plan," Stan sighed.

"So, what are you going to do now?" I questioned.

"Uhm, that's why I'm here," he answered, eyebrow raised. "_You're_ the shrink."

I deadpanned, "I'm a school psychologist. Not psychic, and I'm totally not God."

I rolled my eyes, and pretty much told Stan what I told Quinn and Logan, because it's pretty much the same situation. It's like a Quogan throwback to the future, so I'm guessing that this advice will work. And they're my friends. I consider Leah the sister I never had, and Stan is like the fourth brother I had. My mom told me that I was going to end up getting a fourth brother when I was about three. They named him Bartholomew (ring a bell, anyone?) but he died hours after birth.

So, when Chase was born, Steven decided to give _Bartholomew_ to him as his middle name.

Yep, just needed to share that with you.

"Look, I don't know what's going through your head right now, but I do know that you, and only you, have the power to control the outcome of your…uh, problem. It'll be weird for me, but I'm learning to accept it like I hope you can," I explained, with a smile. "You have control, dude. So take it." I playfully winked. "And you'd make an awesome godfather."

Stan looked me grinning now, and we both stood to hug. He went from best friend to boyfriend back to best friend, Stan's not dumb. I know that better than anyone.

And Leah. Let's not forget Leah.

Wrapping his arms around me, we hugged, "Thank you, Laura. You're awesome."

"I know."

We just hugged, and he rubbed my belly so Erin could get acquainted with her "favourite Uncle Stan".

Things were going to be okay. Everything was going to be one step at a time, but everything was going to be okay.

I knew that much.

--

_**Week Seven: Friday**_

"Laura, after death, is that it?" Logan questioned, pulling up little blades of grass. We were outside because it was too nice to be outside in that office. It was the regular after school session I had with Logan, and I think it was just implanted in his subconscious that he had to come see me, even though his second anger management was about to be over.

Some believe in re-incarnation. If I were to die and come back, I'd love to be a cat so I could chill and scratch things when I was irritated. I'd probably do something like that. Anyone who knows me will say that. The Catholic believe in purgatory, while others just don't believe in anything that has to do with the afterlife.

That after death, it's pretty much over. And I guess, one would just…disappear.

I looked over to my left, plucking a yellow dandelion from the ground. To think I used to think these were flowers, and now I grow up and they're weeds.

Pretty weeds. But yeah, still gross and a bee's dream. I hate bees. I think I'm known in the hives for bee homicide or something. I don't know, but I like to imagine it for some odd reasons.

I shrugged, stretching my legs out in front of me, and I crossed my legs at the ankle as Logan sat cross-legged in front of me. I could have guessed with the black he was wearing, but he told me himself.

He genuinely looked tired, and just out of energy, like there was nothing more he could say.

"My grandfather passed away in his sleep, Monday night. My grandmother came to wake him and he wouldn't wake up. Ethan called, and told me before he and my mother had to fly out from New York to California for the funeral…tomorrow," he started, explaining like it was the hardest thing for him to talk about. That's because it was. As I said before, Logan may have this confident stride, but he is human and prone to emotions – even ones he doesn't want to show.

"I'm sorry, Logan," I replied, sympathetic. I had to talk before I got quiet and started to cry because it had only been a year ago, but everything was just so damn fresh. So if I talk, I can't cry. Understand how this works?

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Logan, can I tell you something?"

He looked at me, lifting his eyes from the grass he seemed so occupied with, and shrugged lightly, "Sure. I guess."

"You know how I'm related to Chase, right?"

I sound like a broken record with this, but I have a point. Let me get to it. I'm freakishly talented like that.

I'm not plugging myself, shamelessly.

It's true. I think I was just given that ability. I guess, I appreciate it on some days than others. But seriously, let me get to my objective because you and I both I'll get there.

Okay? Okay. Glad we understand each other like that.

Logan nodded, and I continued, "Well, Chase's grandmother was my mother. And trust me, right now. You want to just disappear, and there are a lot of questions running through your head because everything was so expected. I never thought I'd lose my mother the way it occurred. You know I'm going to be honest with you, and tell you that there will be hard days ahead. Were you and your grandfather close?"

"Yeah, we were close. I don't listen to a lot of people, but I could listen to him, though. My brother and I looked up to him a lot, and now it's all over…" he sighed, his face getting pigments of pink as he swallowed hard and continued. He stared at me with a look in his eyes I'd never seen before. "Laura, can I tell you something?"

"Sure. You're welcome to tell me anything you want to get off your chest when you're ready."

"I've been putting on this happy, normal front for the past three days because I know Quinn was worried about me and she came to you. I'm okay with that. I don't want her to feel that way. She shouldn't worry about me; just so she could feed me those mood lollipops even they are good. I can't do that to her," he said, and then laughed bitterly. Yup, it was one of those laugh or cry situations. He ran a hand through his hair. "I feel like complete shit, Laura. I'm not strong enough. Ethan maybe. Not me. I know, it's a shock coming from me, but…yeah, I feel like total crap."

No.

No. I wasn't going to believe that. I wasn't going to believe that Logan had no inner strength because he was going through the five stages of grief.

Denial: I'm fine. They're happy and alive. This didn't happen.

Anger: How could this happen at all? Life totally gave the shortest end of the fucking stick!

Bargaining: (exasperated sigh): Okay, okay. Here's a deal. Just compromise and have life tip my way for once. Please?

Depression: Ah, fuck it. I don't care anymore.

(Side thought: I think Logan is really at the depressed part right now. I don't know if he got past bargaining, but I do know he would have gone through anger and denial in one mix, instead of them being separate.)

Acceptance: Okay. They're gone. At least, I'm prepared for that, and I can move on.

(Another side thought: This is where he needs to work towards. Acceptance. It's healthy)

"Now," my face got a challenging look, just to get his attention. Complete with raised eyebrow, baby! " – since when does Logan Reese thrown in the towel?"

"Uh, never," he answered, with a slight scoff, and rolled his eyes. "I'm grieving. Not wimpy."

Ah, the Logan Reese ego was back. All he needed was a push.

I laughed lightly, with a smile, "See? You just defended yourself when I questioned your character, meaning you are strong, Logan. Maybe not in the way that people would expect to be – the prom thing was bold, man and I saw it through the magic of DVDs – but you're strong enough to handle something like grief. "Whatever emotions you feel, show them any way you want as long as it's constructive."

I used this speech for myself while telling him, because I needed that. Everyone kept telling me the same thing, and I laughed at them for being dense.

Yep. It's true.

Something always seems stupid, until you hear it from someone else.

"It's like surfing. The waves will be rough, but try your hardest to stand on that board so you don't wipe-out. Get me?"

Logan looked at me, a cross between a smirk and a smile forming on his face. Yeah, he got me.

"Laura, Quinn's already coming with me to the funeral, but can you come too? This is as close to begging as I'll go…"

"What? I – "

And then I didn't know what to say to that. It was sweet of me to invite me, and I was freaking flattered. Let's get that straight right now. But the words just fell out of my mouth.

"Come on. I basically told my parents how cool you were, and they really want to meet you anyway. Ethan might be coming with me to PCA for next year anyway, so it's cool, right?"

I didn't plan on meeting parents at a funeral where a poor, well-loved person will be lowered into the ground, six feet under forever, but…okay.

Okay. So you basically have jealous tendencies, anger issues, and a not-so-spotless history BUT…

And a very big but, here.

You're actually learning how to keep anger in check. You're not dishing out sucker punches to every guy who looks at Quinn in a romantic sense, even though I know you will.

And you've found a solid relationship with a person that is crazy about you. Is it mutual?

Uh. Yes. A person would have to be on some heavy drugs NOT to see that.

I've come to respect Logan very much even though I've only known him a short while.

"Okay, I'll be there, Logan," I confirmed, with an affirmative (oohh, big word of the day, people!) nod of my head. "I'd love to meet your parents as well."

"Awesome," came his reply, as his eyes lit up.

Everything was going to be okay, was what I thought when he stood leaving with one of the most genuine smiles ever.

I SO love this job, I thought once again with a contented sigh.

I _really_ do.

* * *

**A/N: Twenty-six pages, okay? Nearly two weeks of work in between school, and my life outside of the site. So, technically the story's over, but now it's just the epilogue which will be a series of flashbacks and then the narration by Laura one last time before the sequel comes out which won't be for a while if you read the author's note on the top. I will elaborate on what happened at the funeral and such. I will seriously love you guys if this story hits 200 by the time it's over. Even though, it's sort of a stretch, I believe in you guys. You can review like crazy. Those would be nice to see. It's 2AM so I will work on something relatively shorter The Little Things In Between (review that too if you haven't), and post it tomorrow morning. I'm sorry for any mistakes you may find. I'm tired and human – I hope you understand that. So once again, I'm sorry. **

**Review. **

**-Erika**


	10. Epilogue

**A/N: And it all comes to this point. The epilogue of Guidance. Now I'm kinda sad because it's over. But yet, I'll have another story to officially put to rest and put this fun, amazing story I've nursed for the past five or six months. The idea of Laura's character was a triple blend of myself, my high school band teacher, and my high school guidance counselor. Anyway, enjoy this for the last time for a while. I hope you'll wait patiently for the sequel, **_**Leave It On The Dance Floor.**_

**Disclaimer: From the beginning, I've said I don't own it. Just Laura, and other characters. **

* * *

**Guidance**

**Epilogue**

* * *

Eleven hours.

Eleven hours of contractions, and trying not to yell at the nurses who all look like scum in my eyes.

Eleven hours of no epidural – I don't want a needle in my spine. Do you hear me, Karen? You are not getting your anesthesiologists to stick a fucking long needle in my back! NO! All family ties aside, I will sue if you do it! DON'T DO IT!

Would you like an overview of how we ended up at this point? Would you like to know how I ended being in the worst pain of my life, trying to bring a baby into the world, only being six centi-fucking-meters dilated?

Here's the short version because if you make me go through the long version, I may chuck a bedpan at some of you in the front, and I forget whether it's there's tinkle in there or not. Would you like to find out?

No?

Good.

Now, here's the short version.

My water broke around four in the morning. I was cramping, and it freaked me out. The bed looked like I peed myself, but the things was…I didn't need to pee. Cramping and weird substance? Yep, my water broke. Before I knew anything, we were quickly, but gently bolting out of the house, but we called Karen before we left, and because she lives closer to the hospital, she met us there.

Through my contractions, I'm yelling at the nurses because their uniforms are green.

"Yeah, you're clothes are green! I hate green!"

"Uh, Mrs. Whitman, your eyes are green…"

"So? Don't tell me what I know! You're still terrible!" I screamed back. "How do you live with yourself? How do you sleep at night, knowing global warming is – OW! MOTHERFUCKING OW!"

And then another contraction hit. And it's been an ugly cycle ever since.

Now, sneaking a glance at the clock, it's five after three in the afternoon. I think.

Karen pretty much stuck her gloved hand up my wazoo, and was like all smiley when she said, "Yeah, Laura. You're making real progress. You're now six centimeters dilated…more than halfway. Just four more centimeters and you'll be ready to push."

But you don't understand. I want to push, well, NOW!

That was two hours, many painful contractions (Breathe like you're drinking through a straw? Who the hell came up with that?) ago, so I obviously didn't get my way.

There was this strap across my belly, which was hooked up to a fetal heart monitor. I could Erin's heartbeat, and the only good thing is that she was strong, and just as ready to end this as I was. She's not even officially born and we're already on the same brainwave. If that's not maternal bonding, then I don't know what it is. I'm left wondering why men aren't capable of having babies. I'd love to hand the reigns over to Gary while I took a break.

Everyone's here. The entire Matthews clan (plus Leah and Stan), and I mean, ENTIRE. We took one side of the waiting room while Gary's family took up the other waiting room next to that one. There were too many people and they couldn't fit in one waiting room. The only people that aren't here are Chase, Zoey, and Robyn. They just flew in from Maui, and they had to make a quick detour to the house and they were coming right back in the car hidden for Chase in their garage.

Gary's in his PJs, and I think he was more panicked than I was. His eyes are tired, and he has the beginnings of stubble on his face. I would've been laughing manically if I didn't have a nearly nine pound baby plowing through my insides, quite painfully.

Gary: Okay, my wife is going to have a baby!

Nurse: Okay, uhm, just fill this out, and tell me quickly who is her physician is, and when her due date is supposed to be.

Me: (glares at nurse through contraction while breathing because it fucking hurts!)

Gary (chucks clipboard across the room, while holding me): NO! I'm trying to be nice here! Either you get my wife settled in, or we're going have my daughter on the FUCKING floor! Understand?! I'm sleep-deprived, and I'm hungry!

Nurse: Sir, if you just –

Gary: No! Get Dr. Matthews. NOW!

I'm crying not because the contractions are literally a pain. I think I was full out sobbing because I couldn't pretend that it didn't hurt. I could pretend a paper cut didn't hurt. I could pretend a twisted ankle didn't matter and I was going to dance on it anyway. But I couldn't pretend this time. I really couldn't pretend. I haven't cried this bad since I fell out of a tree and broke my arm in two separate places. That happened when I was ten.

I still hear Erin's heartbeat. I still hear it, and I'm grateful for that. She's strong and healthy.

That's all I want. It really has been a pregnancy full of ups and downs, but at least she's been healthy and developing all this time. It's bittersweet because my mom died before I became pregnant.

Right now, Gary and Karen are convincing – or trying to – me to get the epidural.

Oh, thank God. The contractions are over for now, but they'll spring up with a vengeance and drive me crazy.

And then I'll want to rip my hair out from frustration.

"Laura, I'm not telling you as your doctor, I'm telling you as family because I love you," Karen told me, her tone serious. I held Gary's hand in case another contraction hit. She checked me again, and I'm now eight centimeters dilated. Three hours ago she said I was six, and now I'm eight. I kind of wanted to get to the full ten by myself. I'm breathing steadily just as the Lamaze lady told me to do.

Bless her heart.

"Yeah, I know…"

"You've done this for eleven, almost twelve hours. Take the epidural. It'll help you go through and dilate two more centimeters, and then you'll be able to push."

I'm so tired. I'm just so…tired.

"I'm tired. I wanted…to do it…myself," I sobbed. That's what I'm hearing myself sound like. Everything is just a blur. I want to be a mom. I don't want to be pregnant anymore. "It just hurts."

"I know, baby. I know."

I turned to Gary, "No, you…don't. You don't have doctors sticking their hands up YOUR hooter? Do you?"

"Gary, don't worry about Laura's mood," she assured my husband. She laughed. What the hell? This is NO laughing matter! "When I was giving birth, I went from crying to questioning Steve's sexuality to threatening to neuter him because it was a weapon. Laura, you were young but remember that?"

Yes, because I really want to go back when I was eleven. Sure, let's just put MY excruciating labour on hold to flashback.

"No."

NO. Okay. I don't remember anything. I don't want to remember anything.

Where the hell is that bedpan when you need it?

…

…

Oh yeah. I think one of the nurses hid it because I would have given it to them, Old Faithful Style.

I could have made the bedpan airborne, y'know.

"I'm not in the mood for remembering right now!" I shouted, as another contraction passed. I tried to even out my breathing. I was angry for some reason, and couldn't pinpoint it to just one. I was pissed off. "Okay, what if you drug me up with that needle and it hits my spine? What happens if I wake up one day, and I become paraplegic?"

Or even worse, paralyzed from the NECK up?

I think if I can't dance ever again, I might very well hang myself. Selfish, I know, making Gary a widower and a single father, but I think I'd be so deep in depression that I'd do it.

"It's really rare, Laura. One in hundred thousand chance, which is really low…"

Low, as in it'll never happen, or low as in she's just saying that to prevent an inevitable murder?

"Baby," Gary said, softly, kissing me. "You'll be up dancing before you know it. We're hours from being parents. It's crazy. I hate seeing you in pain."

"I know," I replied, but it came out as sigh because I was trying to manage this contraction. "I know."

I had to close my eyes for a bit, even though I knew I wasn't going to sleep, and I'm not – I REPEAT – I will not munch on ice chips and pretend they're M&M's or something. I have no motive to imagine right now. My wild, crazy imagination has to be on hiatus.

"Laura?"

I turned my eyes on her, Gary stroking my hair while he let me hold his hand. I was holding it for the longest time and I think I cut off the circulation but I don't think he cared. Either he didn't care, or just didn't feel it at the time.

My eyes flickered in between them, and I feel like a horribly made sandwich. Both of them staring at me like that. You know, the look. The one that looks like I've committed some sin against nature. Well, I'm eight centimeters dilated, aren't I? That should be enough.

Oh, for fuck's sake –

"Okay, okay!" I held up my free hand. "I'll get the epidural. If everything goes wrong though, I'll hurt you terribly."

"Agreed."

I narrowed my eyes, "I'm serious. I'll maim you."

"Okay, Laura. Just let me get ready. I'll personally administer it."

Another goddamn contraction hit.

--

I have this crippling fear of needles.

You don't understand.

After I got my second set of ear piercings, Leah dragged me off to another piercing place to get our belly buttons pierced. I had to lie on the table thing, the dude washed the area with the coldest antiseptic I'd ever felt (made me wonder if they kept that stuff in the freezer and then thawed it the day before). I knew my parents would kill me.

Long story short: Before the dude could clamp that tiny section near my belly button, so he could pierce it, I ran. I ran at a speed that would probably put Donovan Bailey's time to shame.

Okay, I'm exaggerating. But I did run.

Now, I can't. I can't run away from the fact there will be a long needle shoved into my back to ease the contractions. I'm eight centimeters dilated, and that's great, but the fact that I'm in a sitting position, arching my back isn't.

I don't think you understand how badly I'm shaking right now.

"Laura, you're shaking like a leaf," my husband said, when I gripped onto his shoulders, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. I'm on the brink on a panic attack.

"I know. I'm okay."

No. I'm not.

"Are you sure?"

No. I'm not. My needle phobia has come back after being dormant for so many years.

Let me silently scream it out of my system for a few seconds.

AHHHHH!

FOOT LONG NEEDLE GOING INTO MY BACK!

AHHHHH!

FUCKFUCK**FUCK**!

I'm hoping in the name of Cyd Charisse (she was like a female version of Jesus for all dancers) that Karen reconsiders.

Come on, Karen. Reconsider. Have a freaking heart! You're a wife and a mother, a freaking doctor for Christ's sake.

Reconsider and don't, I REPEAT, don't stick that needle into my back. Just let me suffer a little longer. I mean, I don't care about sleep. Sleep is for the weak of heart. I could just push now!

Let me push now!

"Okay, I'm going to need you relax for me, okay Laura?"

Bitch.

I'm saying that because I love you, Karen. Okay?

There's a cold feeling on my bare back, and then I take in a sharp intake of breath, gripping Gary's hand tighter than ever. I don't care if I'm cutting off the circulation, okay? Fine, we'll roast your hands a little to get the blood flowing when there isn't a nearly nine pound child taking up the space between my pelvis and vage-jayjay!

"I'm not going to give you a whole lot. It's analgesic so you'll still feel your legs. Just enough for it to wear off, so that you can push in time with your contractions, so this stuff will wear off. Be warned."

MOTHERFU –

What the hell? Then what's the point?! I love Erin, but she's on the brink of breaking my area. I'm already eighty percent dilated anyway!

"Okay."

Oh, trust me. I'm usually very talkative, but I'm sticking to one worded answers.

How very sadistically kind of you. Yes, oxymoron alert.

And then I felt the needle go into my back, while biting my tongue so I wouldn't scream.

The only upside is I couldn't feel the contractions anymore when it actually kicked in. I let out a breath of relief when Karen and Gary helped me lie down. It's like this really happy effect kicked n when I snuggled into bed. The blanket was scratchy, but I didn't care. I snuggled deeper into my bed with the need to just sleep. I glanced at the clock and it was now about quarter after four.

"When are we going to have a baby?" Gary questioned, stroking my hand. My hair was practically at over the place and possibly looked at a bird's nest.

I'm not talking about the expression of abysmally messed up hair or "hair that's not Logan's".

Speaking of whom, his parents were really nice…for divorced parents. They're like best friends with kids between them – even though they're married to different people. It's freaky how Ethan and Logan look EXACTLY alike. Sure, they're identical twin brothers, but…wow. They have very, VERY minor differences but…yeah, they're clones.

In the good freaky kinda way.

Not in the psychotic, world domination way.

I'm talking about an actual bird's nest the birds might to be attracted to. The state of my hair, I mean. I think I should cut it shorter.

I heard Erin's heartbeat. I mean, it was always there, but I heard it for real, and it made me happy, and antsy.

"Yeah, because I don't want to be pregnant anymore. Thirty six weeks is enough."

Karen smiled, "Honestly, I'd say by six, I'll be delivering my own niece. I still can't believe that. Well, I see an unmistakably mass of bushy hair overhead. I only know one person with that because, well, I gave birth to him. Sixteen hours, and I'm on speed dial number three! Three, Laura!"

Yeah, we had this conversation before while on brunch. It was one of the few days where Gary left to go to work in sweats and a hooded sweatshirt. Yes, he even had the cute, untamed bedhead.

Karen: Three. Are you kidding me? I'm on speed dial three!

Me: And?

Karen: Laura. I gave him life. There would be no Chase Matthews if it weren't for me!

Steve: Honey, calm down. And I helped, remember that.

Ew. I could have gone my ENTIRE life without knowing that. I'm shuddering on the inside.

Me: Ew.

Steve: Sorry, baby sis (smirks cheekily) but yeah, you're definitely old enough. You're not eleven anymore.

And for this portion of my life, I wish I was innocent and eleven. Okay, it's a bit of a stretch with the innocence but still, I want to be eleven goddamnit.

I told you before our sibling rivalry is the good, family hate kind.

Me (makes a face, and shoots a raisin out of a straw): Oh, whatever (raisin hits Steve in the neck).

Steve: Did you just shoot a raisin at my neck?

Me: Yeah, what if I did?

Karen: He almost broke my vagina…even though medically that can't happen…but come on, three? I'm going to binge on more salad with ranch dressing.

Well, she's not miffed about it anymore, because she's been upgraded to speed dial two.

"You should get some rest. So, in about an hour, I'll be back, and we'll have a baby," Karen smiled, brightly, playing with the stethoscope around her neck, and then she left. Mostly to the waiting area. Turning to my husband, I smiled and yawned. I'm not even kidding. The epidural is like sex without the potential pregnancy thing, but seriously, it's like sex.

"You're probably tired of staying here with me, so go get something to eat."

"No. One, I'm never tired of being with you, and two, I'm not hungry."

"Again, I have to tell you the coffee doesn't count," I joked, and then turned serious. "Seriously, go into the cafeteria and eat something," I smiled softly, feeling my eyelids get heavier. "I can promise you right now that Erin won't be making her grand debut anytime soon. Please?"

"Well, my mom is getting antsy, so I'd better get to her, and then find something to eat. I promise."

"Thank you," I yawned, again. Gary kissed my cheek, and I can't tell you how long he sat there and stroked my hair – I still feel like it's a bird's nest, even though Gary tells me it isn't. I'll but it – until I feel asleep, but the fact of the matter is, I did.

Hell. Yes.

I fell asleep to the sound of Erin's heartbeat.

--

He was tired.

He was excited, the anticipation almost killing him.

Gary Whitman was the epitome of the expression, "walking on eggshells". There were knots in his stomach when he walked away from the room where his wife peacefully slept for the first time since her water broke and the whole labour process began. Waking at around three thirty in the morning for work, he had only gotten to brush his teeth when he found Laura hunched over on all fours on the foot of their bed.

All it took was for Laura to complain about slight cramping and despite his minty-fresh breath, and pearly white teeth, he guided his wife down the stairs and drove like a maniac (when he was usually composed) down the road to the hospital. Now, twelve hours later with stubble on his face, Gary rubbed his tired blue eyes and trudged into the waiting room where his side of the family sat.

Fuzzy slippers, morning robe with pajamas were included.

There were his parents. Jerry tried to calm Susan down, quietly. His aunt Rose made an appearance and no doubt that she was intoxicated but he had to be thankful she was sober enough to understand what was going on, and then there was his twenty-five year old cousin, Dean. Dean was the polar opposite of mild-mannered Gary. He was brash and outspoken, but he had no tactfulness whatsoever. An avid smoker and drinker (though not as chronic as his mother), Dean smirked at his older cousin, his blue-grey eyes sparkling with the mischief Gary knew all too well.

Paul and Jamie were nowhere to be found and neither was Julie.

Before Gary could question the whereabouts of his sister, brother-in-law and nephew, Gary found himself pinching the bridge of his nose to suppress any urge to strangle Dean.

Luckily, Jerry caught on and fixed his nephew with a stare full of warning.

"Son, you'd better think about what you say before you open your mouth, and say it."

"Whoa, whoa, easy Uncle Jerry," Dean put his hands up in easy-going surrender. He directed a gaze towards Gary. "Hey cuz, so I was wondering…did the hot wife pop the little one out yet?"

"Dean!" Susan shrieked at her nephew. Rosie smacked her son upside the head.

"I may be skipping out on my Alcoholics Unanimous meetings –"

"Uh, Rose, it's called Alcoholics Anonymous," her sister corrected. Rose merely waved an dismissive hand.

"Same diff, Sue. But yeah…" she trailed off before remembering what the point of her mini tirade was. "Dean, you're an idiot. I admit that I'm an alcoholic, but I'm your mom. Even I know you're an idiot. I say that because I love you…and I feel myself sobering up. You get that that whole spouting stupid shit from your father, not me." Rose's face darkened, and she added with a mutter. "Bastard can't even pay me alimony properly…"

"Ow! I can't be curious about the birth of my first cousin?"

"No, you're not allowed," Jerry deadpanned, flatly. "In fact, you're banned."

"I'm feeling the love. Really, I am," the young man replied, with a roll of his eyes. He crossed his arms, sinking deeper into the waiting room chair. He was occupied with a stack of magazines before he realized there were no Playboy ones. "Oh, fuck. No _Playboy_."

Gary rubbed his temples, wondering if he was actually adopted for he really couldn't be in the same gene pool as someone who was concerned about what to masturbate to once night fell, "Dude, I'm way too tired to punch you in the mouth so be glad."

"Gary."

"Sorry, Mom. I'm just tired."

"I'm brimming over with joy," Dean returned, sarcastically. "My lips thank you for making them stay intact."

"Dean…"

"Fine, Aunt Sue, next time, I'll bring a muzzle."

"If it helps, sweetie," Susan looked at her nephew endearingly as she knew it was Dean's way of telling her he wouldn't speak unless necessary anymore. Dean would listen to Susan if not anyone else. Standing to enclose her son in a hug, she took his face examining it and knew that her son was nearly burnt out, staying awake for more than twelve hours straight. She brushed the hair from his eyes the way a mother would. "Oh, my poor, tired baby. So, how's Laura?"

"She's asleep finally, and the epidural is helping her sleep. The circulation in my hand is returning evenly and Karen says in two hours, we'll have Erin here. I'll be a dad in a couple of hours," he explained, his chest swelling with excitement at the thought of holding his newborn daughter in his arms. Nine months was way too long, but worth it. "So, where'd Paul, Jamie and Jules go?"

"Well, Jamie wanted his colouring book, and was restless so Paul took him home for a bit to get it. They'll be back anytime now. Your sister's in the cafeteria downstairs. I think she seemed a little down."

Down? What was wrong?

Before the thought could take shape and process, his stomach let out a growl, "I'm kinda going to down there anyway so I'll catch up with Julie."

"Okay," Jerry replied, from his seat, idly flipping through the pages of a car magazine. He chuckled absentmindedly. "Ha. Some idiot did the crossword puzzle wrong."

Dean's peripheral vision caught the sight of a young redheaded nurse with quite delicate features on her break, and smiled deviously. He stood up, "Well, I'm going to go for a smoke but I left my good lighter at home."

"No, you didn't. You've had like four cigarettes already," his cousin replied, his face going into of confusion. Dean only winked.

"The redhead over there doesn't know that. Time to lay on the Dean McGregor charm."

With that departing word, Dean sauntered off.

Rose sighed, "And he wonders why I drink, right?"

"Okay, I'm leaving too. Again, I'm too tired to decipher Dean's thoughts and if I try, I'll end up being scarred for life. Food sounds good right now."

Gary also left, made certain by the soft rhythmic pitter-patter of fuzzy slippers connecting with the hospital white floors.

He really couldn't focus on eating when his heart beat so loudly and landed in his throat.

But he promised Laura, and he loved her more than anything else, so he would try.

--

Karen Matthews was downright tired, even though it was a happy occasion.

Walking into her office, she just wanted to sleep even though it wasn't possible. She had taken it upon herself to actually hide the bedpans for two reasons: one, Laura clearly didn't need them as her mood was all over the place and two, she didn't really want Laura to transform a simple bedpan into something of mass destruction. There were only so many patients Karen could treat at once and she needed the nurses around, so it was best that Laura didn't have anything within reach that was launchable.

She plopped in her office chair, grateful for the hour or two that she had to prepare for the delivery of her own niece. When she was granted her PhD, she swore to look after all human life and do everything possible but this was personal. There was a certain apprehensiveness that gripped the forty year old greatly. Maybe it was nerves, and maybe it was something else but Karen rubbed her face letting a soft sigh escape her lips.

"Okay, we're here. What's up?"

Her eyes met her father-in-law, husband and her brothers-in-law before speaking.

"Karen, is Laura and the baby okay? If there's something going on, then you should tell us. This isn't about doctor-patient confidentiality anymore and – "

"No, no. John, it's nothing like that. The baby and Laura are doing just fine. I promise you that."

"Okay, then what's up?" Ronald Matthews questioned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He was the third of four and shared a three and a half year difference with Laura, being born November 15, 1976.

"Well, the problem isn't that major but I don't want to take any chances. Erin could be about nine pounds and I gave Laura epidural so she'd get some sleep for a couple of hours. I just want to take this as a safety precaution…"

"Okay, so there is something wrong with Laura and the baby."

"No. I've already established this, Phil. I just mean that if the contractions don't come back so she can push in time with them, then I suggest we put her out of her misery and do a quick C Section. Let's face it: she's been in labour for over twelve hours and it's no fun."

"Gary won't like that," Steven replied, after his wife. He rubbed her shoulders in a comforting manner.

"Forget Gary. Laura will totally freak on you. You'd have to tell her and then you'd have to stick more anesthesia in her back on another spot, and then cut her open like a fish fillet. This is why I'm a contractor," Phil said, causing him to receive a glare from everyone around him. He especially flinched, feeling the doctor's eyes burning through him. "Oh, right. You're a doctor and find it fulfilling. My bad."

"How the hell does Cheryl put up with you?"

Ron laughed, touching a fist to his brother's bicep, "Very painfully."

"As much as I love you boys and your bonding, this isn't the time," John cut in, and looked at his daughter-in-law with the utmost serious. "Okay, worst case scenario is?"

"That the labour totally hits the fan and I have to start up a C Section which is just another hour of labour for her," Karen explained, simply and then a small smile graced her features. "But there is a very low chance it will have to come to that. I just wanted to tell you guys in here because I don't want anyone to get all worked up. It won't come to that. She's been asleep for the past forty five minutes, and the baby's heartbeat is strong."

Everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief until Phil spoke, "So, any up for me summarizing the demise of Superman? I brought the whole collection up until the legendary battle with Doomsday."

"Luckily, there's nothing stronger than a father's love.…"

Ron blinked in complete wonder, "Phil, you need a hobby. And it's not of the stamps and collectors variety."

"Nice, Phil," Karen replied, letting a hand cover half her face. "I knew we shouldn't have let Chase read those comics too much."

"Comics are way more interesting than television. Don't knock it until you've tried it."

"Son," John clapped his son's shoulder twice, giving him an assuring gaze with that signature gruffness in his voice. "Now, Steve and Ron will rip on you pretty much forever, and I love you, but I'll knock on whatever I want to knock on."

John led his son out of the room, Phil faintly debating on the importance of comics and the imagination. Ron followed suit, and soon Steve was left, but not before giving his wife a kiss. She giggled like a little school girl, memories of their first teenage meetings coming back to her. Closing the door, Steven smiled mischievously, making his wife stand by grabbing her waist.

Steven kissed her again, this time, the kiss making her dizzy with giddiness. She cradled his face gently, before a smile broke out and she pulled away with a giggle.

"We're going to get in trouble."

"That's why you married me, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Karen answered, and then a thoughtful look came on her face, and she slightly bit her bottom lip. "And the fact that I was pregnant with Chase and my mom didn't want him born out of wedlock. But aside from that, I love you."

"I love you too, and I kinda want to show you how much."

"Now?" Karen let out a laugh escape her. She glanced around her office. "Right here?"

"We're at a crunch for time, but hey, if you're into that sort of thing – "

The doctor shoved him playfully, "I knew under that hard-ass lawyer shell, you were a freak."

"Please, I'm like in ninja mode. You never know when I'll show up, or what I would do next."

"Ah," Karen gave an amused smile, arms around her husband's middle, since she was slightly shorter than he was, even though they were average height. "Same person who organized all of the family albums according to number of pictures, dates taken and holding capacity. Ooh, that just screams dangerous."

"Uh, yeah, it is dangerous. Paper cuts sting. You should know that," he playfully retorted, feigning hurt, but brightened up. "Well, I kind of had the hunch of 'conveniently' having the house empty tomorrow night. We give Chase and Zoey money to double date with Robin and Allen. Sure, we gave Zoey the guest room that has the bathroom connected to Chase's room, even though he has his own on the other side, but I trust his judgment."

Karen sighed, shaking her head, before speaking, "And then we'll be 'conveniently' alone."

"That's the plan. You in or out?"

"Yeah," she answered, pressing her lips to Steven's once more. "I'm in."

It was going to be a lot easier for her to perform this delivery now because she wasn't so nervous anymore.

--

"Hey stranger."

"Oh. Hey," Julie looked up from her muffin, and even though she usually enjoyed a good muffin, she just wasn't up for it. "Wow, you looked wrecked."

"Thank you. I'm in bedhead chic," Gary joked, making his sister laugh before he saw it falter and go back to staring at her muffin as if it were going to do backflips or burst into flames. "Okay, I know you just laughed to humour me, and Mom told me you were a little down, so what's up?"

Gary was well aware of his sister's impending divorce, after six years of marriage. On the outside, Paul and Julie looked like the picture perfect couple with the young, and quite brilliant son, but behind closed doors, things were dangerously strained. Paul was an accountant so he would leave her with an infant Jamie on "business trips" for weeks at a time. It was frustrating not having her husband around to help her, and after putting up with it for too long, Julie's rage brimmed over and in a drunken haze, she had one lapse of judgment by sleeping with a guy in a club that she didn't even know the name of while her son slept peacefully at her parent's house for the night. It was a stupid lapse of judgment, but she only cheated because he was doing it first.

Sure, it was stupid and quite childish but when she confessed, she apologized over and over to no avail, she decided to stop playing the victim and call him out on it.

Two wrongs definitely didn't make a right here.

A deafening crack echoed through the house as Julie's hand went sweeping across his face. Grabbing his stinging face, Paul gaped at his wife, and watched her eyes flame up with the anger, in his opinion, she had no right to feel. Luckily, the clock struck two-thirty and Jamie was contentedly at daycare, oblivious to the tension between his parents.

"How dare you," she seethed, her voice becoming broken. "How _dare_ you throw that…mistake…in my face when you've been sleeping with that slutty 'co-worker' of yours for months! How stupid do you think I am?"

"Very," Paul retorted, bitterness lacing his voice as well. "At least I know who I fucked."

"So, you admit then," Julie laughed, bitterly. "You know her name, her favourite flower, and how many snow-globes are in her _effing_ collection! I admit I made a mistake, and I acknowledge I shouldn't have done it, but I'm way better than you, Paul!" she yelled, jabbing an accusatory finger at her husband. "I'm a freaking saint compared than you, because at least I felt bad! You're just too self-righteous to accept that. I felt dirty, and cheap! Have you ever stopped and wondered what the hell would happen if we tell Jamie that his mommy and daddy split up because we jump down each other's throats when he's not around?"

"I don't know," Paul's eyes filled with frustration, and Julie felt bad until she realized this was the man who outwardly admitted to committing infidelity and confirming all of her suspicions. "We'll deal with it when the time comes."

Julie's eyes flickered to the clock and it was quarter to three. Sighing angrily, she walked over to the hooks situated near the door, grabbing her purse with her car keys tucked away inside. She needed to leave and get away for a while.

"I'm picking up Jamie from daycare," she announced, briskly, letting her hair down from the clip.

"I want to do it, Julie."

"No!" she replied, sharply, fixing the man a glare. She dangled her car keys, pleased at the red handprint she'd left before on his cheek. Wagging her finger as if speaking to a child, she said, "My car. My prerogative to go wherever I please away from you. You attempt to touch me and I will deal with you again."

"And I'll sue you for assault."

"Ooh, big man! Well done. You're even more a tool!" Julie taunted, with mock fear, and then her face hardened. She wouldn't cry, and she hated, absolutely hated, that she loved Paul regardless. It was quite stupid of her. "Besides, you have Amanda to tend to."

It took five minutes for Julie to leave, speeding down the road as fast as she could, while tears finally made the appearance, streaking her cheeks and making her mascara run.

Crying it out of her system helped, but she wasn't ready for Jamie's inquisitive nature, so Julie resolved to get it out of her system and then greet her son brightly as if nothing had happened.

It was getting easier to put on that façade with every passing day.

"I'm just so tired, and drained," Julie told her brother, rubbing her eyes. "Hell, Paul and I don't even talk anymore. The only we do is when it has to do with Jamie. And sometimes, I wonder if I'm losing my mind, Gary."

"What?" his eyes wide with surprise. He didn't know things had escalated that badly, but before he had any questions, he eyed Julie's banana nut muffin. It really good and it would be a shame to waste a perfectly good banana muffin. "I'll listen, but first, can I have your banana nut muffin? I just promised Laura I'd eat but now I'm actually starving."

She pushed the plate containing the muffin on it in his direction, "Here. Indulge away."

"You rule," Gary said, gratefully and broke a piece of the muffin, popping the piece in his mouth. It was crunchy from the nuts, and filled with warm softness from the banana. He chewed, and swallowed before Julie spoke again.

"Sure, I was mad. Hell, everyone is prone to anger – "

"Even though you've been to anger management like three times in five years?"

"Not helping."

He smiled, sheepishly through a mouthful of muffin goodness, "My bad. So, how bad has it gotten?"

"Well, how's this for bad: it almost got physical, and I picked up a vase and almost threw it at his head. Inches more, and I would have decapitated the father of my child!" she groaned, covering her face. "I feel like I'm going crazy. Like one day, I have a handle on things and other days, I can't tell which way is up. I'm at the end of my rope here, Gary. As much as I can't stand Paul at the moment, the prospect of being a single mom is starting to become real to me, and let me tell you, it's scared me shitless. God, I suck. This is your day, and I'm unloading all of this on you."

Fixing his sister with a sympathetic gaze, Gary smiled, "Nah, it's cool. You're my big sister, and you were a pain while we were growing up, but we're family. I love you, so I'll give you some brotherly advice."

"I'll take anything – "

"I know it's a stretch, but I know someone that can help," he braced himself for the reaction. Through a mouthful of the remains of banana nut muffin, he swallowed and inwardly flinched. "But hey, after Laura has the baby, go talk to her."

"Absolutely not!"

"Julie – "

"No, Gary! You know how me and Laura are," Julie crossed her arms over her chest, watching her younger brother put the remains of the banana nut muffin in his mouth. "You know that Laura wasn't carrying a baby, we would have pulling each other's hair right out of their roots and drop-kicking each other in the restaurant. We all know that."

Gary was forced to admit this was true, and he would have been forced to drag his inevitably livid wife in a fireman's carry, while apologizing over and over to his sister. But Gary had had it. He was tired of being in the middle, having to choose between his sister and his wife. It was a strain.

"Probably, but look, you're going to have to get along. You're my sister and she's my wife. I love the both of you, and you're going to be in Erin's life, regardless. Jamie's already so excited about his new cousin. So swallow your pride and go talk to her. She's a high school psychologist but she can help you with the whole situation."

"And what if I don't want it?"

Gary raised an eyebrow, and shrugged lightly, "Then you're as stubborn as I thought."

With her eyes downcast, she traced the grain of the cafeteria table with her finger. Hitting rock bottom really sucked. She felt her brother's questioning gaze boring into her, and she gave up, with a loud sigh.

"Fine. I'll talk to Laura," she conceded, standing up. Gary stood up too, towering over her, but he was always the shorter of two. Growth spouts and other feats of puberty changed this. Julie bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, her eyes becoming cloudy and blurred. "I'm…just –"

Gary grabbed her arm, "Come here," was his soft reply order, when he hugged his sobbing sister, "I love you, Jules."

And she loved Gary too.

--

"Stop being so damn selfish, Stan!"

"No! You're the one being selfish, Leah," he retorted, away from the company of everyone in the waiting down the hall and around the corner on the floor below.

"You have five seconds to shut up before I make sure you're a patient here," Leah threatened, her eyes narrowing to slits.

"Then I guess I'd better hurry it up, because I'm about to be impaled," he returned sarcastically. He was just as confused. He couldn't sleep, and his mind seemed to be overdrive all the time, every day since that kiss. Running a hand through his hair, Stan spoke, "Look, you can put up all of these defense mechanisms you want, but the fact of the matter is we _kissed_, and it's not going to go away!"

"Shh!" Leah harshly whispered, when she quickly craned her neck to see if anyone was coming before looking at Stan, anger coursing through her. There was a dark sense of guilt that hung over her when she looked at the engagement ring on her finger. Robert was a good guy, the sweetest fiancée and generally a good guy who didn't deserve to have a broken heart he didn't know of. "Lower your voice. Do you want to someone to hear us?"

"Us?"

"Yeah," she affirmed, gesturing between the space between them. "And don't you take that out of context."

"I'm not."

"Fine, because you kiss bad, dude," Leah said, adamantly. Her bed wasn't as warm and her head wasn't as clear. Suddenly, Robert's hugs and affectionate gestures made her stomach knots and twisted quite painfully, almost in a literal sense. Stan actually wasn't that bad of a kisser, but it was easier to tell him that. After all, she'd spent days telling herself that, and Leah wasn't going to let all of that imaginary wall building go to waste because her emotions were out of whack. "I hated you when we were kids, and I still hate you now. I regret kissing you."

"Oh, trust me. The feeling's mutual," Stan agreed, with a roll of his hazel eyes. He folded his arms, looking smug. "But I have a proposal to pitch at you."

"And just why should I take it?" Leah questioned, snidely. "I don't like you, remember? Did you the mayonnaise down the pants not teach you anything?"

"Yeah, it taught me a lot. Like how you have the makings of a psychopath, but that's beside the point. We've already established years of dislike between us, but I suggest we kiss. If it's been driving me crazy too, then we'll just get it over with and conclude that we hate each other, as usual. Therefore, it'll be nothing, and under no circumstances do we tell Laura."

Blinking in shock, she furrowed her eyebrows, "What kind of drugs are you high on? I'm not going to kiss you."

"Again," he corrected. He sighed, quite frustrated because the curiosity, the natural human curiosity, was suffocating him, smothering him mercilessly. He had to know, and was determined to decipher whatever feelings manifested when he kissed Leah. "What the hell do you have to lose?"

"My sanity, Stan. My fucking sanity, okay?" she spat, pointing a finger in his chest, sharply which made me grimace ever so slightly. "But you know what? I hate being challenged and I refuse to back down from anything especially if it's from – mmph!"

She felt those damn lips crush against hers painfully, so hard Leah actually thought it might leave a bruise. It was hard, and raw for they were never known to be soft or even civil to each other. It left Leah dizzy, and so she was done thinking, allowing all of the pent up emotion to bubble over. Her rationale was dashed out the window.

And the vicious cycle began again, and they didn't know how to stop.

--

"Now, please tell me why there's a lovely lady such as yourself is out here by all alone?"

The petite woman with shoulder length red hair swiveled her head after the taking a drag of her cigarette to meet the quite handsome stranger. Shaking the idleh as off the tip of the glowing end, she met the stranger's eyes which she concluded to be a dull blue colour. She sighed, quirking an eyebrow in questioning.

"Well, that depends. What's it to ya?"

"Oh, don't worry," Dean assured, pulling an unsmoked cigarette from behind his ear, and stuck it between his lips and lit up before inhaling deeply. Exhaling, he gazed at her and she was actually quite pretty with delicate features and bright green eyes. He had dark brown hair which looked black from a farther glance that curled slightly, and went around his ears and stopped at the nape of his neck. He laughed slightly. "I'm no predator if that's what you're thinking. Mind if I smoke beside you?"

The woman shrugged, smoke billowing from her lips and she held the half-smoked cigarette between her slender fingers.

"Sure, it's a free country, right?" her gentle tone replied. "So, why are you at the hospital anyway?"

"Well, my cousin's having a baby, and I basically drove because I can't have my mom kill herself because she's buzzed. Kinda too late, but life's a bitch that way. Don't worry, I don't live with her."

"True, I guess," she agreed, as Dean took a drag of his own cigarette. "And I wasn't thinking that. I also wasn't thinking you were a predator either. "

"So," Dean suggested, with a smirk. "…how about you I take you out for dinner and you get to know me. And then, you can have your own perception of what you think of me. I'm Dean."

Putting her free hand out for him to shake, she introduced herself, "Shannon."

Dean took her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissed it, before releasing it. He'd been with a lot of girls, but his genuine interest in Shannon was piqued. She was like a book filled with all of these mysteries he wanted so badly to decipher. With the others, he had deciphered the art of unhooking their bras in under fifteen seconds flat. But it wasn't like this at all.

"Pretty name."

Shannon took another hit of her cigarette before she threw it on the ground and crushed it under her shoe, putting it out.

"Ask a girl out on the first meeting," Shannon mused. "Pretty bold. Luckily, I admire you enough so my shift is over an hour, so we'll meet up here again, okay?"

"I'll be right here."

Shannon's retreating figure breezed by him, and Dean watched her disappear pulling the glass side door by the silver handles and into the hospital.

The July air brushed his face as he indulged in the feeling of the rush of nicotine.

Everything was coming up _Dean_.

--

I woke up a long time ago.

The ice chips were pretty damn sad but this was as close to food as I would get. And there's no way I'm touching that hospital food. Not the desserts, but the actual food. It makes me wonder if the ingredient was actually a smidge of actual vomit.

No. Uh-uh. I'm not going to even go there today.

I had a lot of people coming in and out of here, and talking to me - even some of the nurses I had yelled at before. In my defense, I was being driven the demon only brought on by painful labour so they can't say I'm crazy –

Oh, wait. Never mind. It's the sane kind of crazy.

Let's summarize the visitors, shall we?

There were my brothers, and my dad. And then Gary's parents, and cousin Dean…yay.

I always love hearing how "hot" I am and how Gary probably "nailed" me hard. Thank God for his smoke breaks, or I would have beaned him with a bedpan.

I'll go find one because I'm resourceful like that.

Or will my hand substitute for a bedpan? He left before we could test it out. Ugh.

How could we forget Aunt Rosie – our resident chugger?

"Why did you let Gary put a bun in your oven?"

Cue look of confusion that clearly reads WTF?!

"Uh, we're married. Remember you were at the wedding, and the reception camping out near the drinks," I offered, even though I thought it was useless. Let me tell you something: her brain is a cesspool. Like brain killing sewage! "We're married. Married people are allowed to have sex as much as they want – in most cases."

"You know Bruce boned me and ran off with some double D blonde hoochie…"

So? I really don't care.

Mind you, this is just same woman who broke out into a bad rendition of "I Will Always Love You," at the reception. If I had to choose, I'd take crackhead Whitney any day!

"Oh," I forced a smile. "That's, um, sad…"

I don't care. I don't care! Say it with me: I. DON'T. CARE.

And then I pretended to care until she left. Hallelujah!

And then Robyn, Chase and Zoey came by, until Robyn left to answer her phone quite annoyed because Allen decided to mix mustard and some other things in the back of his fridge and now he was home with a stomach ache. I've seen Allen before. Good dancer. Good skateboarder, but he's sorta…dumb.

He's hit his head one too many times on the asphalt WITH his helmet on. That's when you know it's just sad.

But Allen's good people. He's dim, but he's good people.

Stan and Leah both were here looking awkward as hell – I'm determined to find out!

More family came in, which I'm actually way too busy to name at the moment because my contractions are back and harder than ever. We're back to square one, but the only difference is I have nurses running in and out of here, people telling me push –

Yes. Because I'm in Fiji having a cocktail!

It's five-thirty in the evening, and I exhale deeply, after my first push. Gary's prying my legs apart and I have Karen practically talking to my hooter going, "Come on, Erin. Be good for Auntie Karen…"

She's a doctor, but it's disturbing.

I noticed that actually rhymed, but with the pain and excitement of this actually being a new beginning, I don't have the time.

This isn't Dr. Seuss time!

I exhaled, deeply, going for my second and (I HOPE TO EFFING GOD!) last push.

"That's right, Laura! Her head's almost out! And it's a full head of hair. Beautiful one!"

"Baby, you're doing good," I heard Gary encourage, and he had this stupid grin on his face. "Keep pushing!"

I'm going to rupture a blood vessel! What the hell do they _think_ am I doing? Yeah. That's right. Bringing my daughter – whom I've waited nine months for – into the world.

I'm not telling her she's the product of rage-induced sex. I'll be telling her something romantic like sex on a moon-lit beach.

But when she's a teenager. I'm not traumatizing her now.

No. This wasn't my final. Third push, huh God? Okay, hoping for only two was a stretch. You win!

"Laura, give me one more and we can guide her out," Karen instructed. Then they started that whole count to ten deal. I personally think twenty-five is a way more sick number, but do I want to count to twenty-five while they count pitifully slow?

Yeah. No. My patience is way too thin for that.

So, I'll shut the hell up and start pushing again through SEARING pain. I'm not even kidding. It burned when I peed. It feels like someone put firecrackers there.

"One. Two. Three. Four…"

OH MY GOD! It's been ages!

"Five. Six. Seven. Eight."

"COUNT FASTER! NOW!" I screamed, quite loudly. "GODDAMNIT!"

"Nine. Ten…"

Oh my God. This is it. I'm going to frustrated and miserable. I bet this is how it ends. I live a pretty fulfilling life, get married and pregnant and then I can't even do this?! I can't even push anymore! Or do it right! Does that mean, I'll have to push again?

I don't want to push again. I suck! I'm terrible! Has my life amounted to this?

It burns!

I read something about it burning and a woman having an orgasm during delivery. Well, why the hell couldn't I get that? God knows there's been no sex in the house for nine months. Instead, I end up getting the "Ring of Fire". Sure, it burned slightly when I peed –

Oh, grow up! You're old enough. What word would like me to use?

How about tinkle or whiz?

Everything's a blur. I think I went deaf because I can't hear what anyone's saying anymore. Oh my God, I'm deaf! I can't dance or hear music ever again.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

Oh God!

SOMEONE SHOOT JUST ME IN THE HEAD ALREADY!

And then I could hear again. I could hear again, and I felt this sense of relief – like the feeling you get when you're sick and you vomit, and then it's over and you're in this really nice place. I didn't know what the hell was going on. I mean, I did, but as mentioned before everything was a blur to me.

But when things stopped being blurry and sort of incoherent, the first thing I heard was the loudest cry. It rang out so loudly, it could have woken up the dead.

I was sure it was mine. My heart leapt in my throat, and I think I made a sound between a laugh and a sob. Karen had tears in her eyes too when she quietly sniffled after re-appearing. I mean, the nurses – I don't know how the hell they put up with my psychotic self – did all of the standard stuff weighing and measuring how tall Erin is.

And then I saw a small tear roll down Karen's cheek even though she brought a small bundle of pink and placed Erin in my arms.

I can't believe I'm staring at my daughter. I'm a mom. I actually get to care for this little person. Someone gets to be dependent on me, and look up to me as their provider and protector.

I'm staring down at my – MINE – own child, and it's all so surreal to me.

"Oh my God," I breathed, looking down and back to Karen who smiled, wiping the tear away. I sobbed, and tried to laugh again. Gary turned all red-faced and he quietly sniffled. "Oh my God…Oh my – I'm a freakin' mom!"

"I'll leave you three to bond, while getting over the fact I just delivered," Karen's voice broke slightly. "…my own niece. Thank you for allowing me to be part of that. Even so, you could have chosen any other doctor, but you chose me so thank you," she placed a hand near her heart. "…so, so much. I'm going to let everyone know the good news."

"Karen, we love you," Gary replied, while I agreed. "I'm a father, and my gratitude towards you and how you monitored this whole thing is amazingly high."

Karen, I will wash your car, and do other stuff you need me to do.

This genie (my imagination is baaaackkk!) is forever in your debt.

Like seriously, I'm forever in her debt and will just give Chase a hell of a time at PCA when she needs me to.

Like –snaps fingers- that. I will do it, I swear.

I'm also the master of subtlety and annoyance. Can't you tell?

Sorry, this is just my brain on overdrive. It'll cool down.

Karen left the room but not before she told me Erin weighed nine pounds one ounce and was twenty-two inches long. She's going to be a tall one. Suddenly, it was just the three of us and that's when it actually hit me that the three of us were a little family. The reality Erin was ours for life, and I can't get over what a perfect mix of Gary and I she is. I could just stare at her in owe, and her cries stopped being full out banshee screams and just little whimpers while I rocked.

Her skin stopped being that pale colour and she actually gained some colour, getting those cheeks that were full and rosy. Erin had a full head of fine dark brown hair already under that cap on her head. I think Gary practically melted when she opened her eyes and I caught a tinge of this bluish-greenish shade in them.

All it took was for Erin (Nicole _Denise_ – I'm paying tribute to my mother here. Mommy, I did it! Oh, lord. I sound like those kids on the potty training commercials. Cure "I'm a big kid now" jingle here – Whitman) actually look at us to realize we were parents.

I sound like a record broken record, but AHHHH! –insert incoherency here-

And to think when I met you all, I saw only six months pregnant. Has it been three months already?

"She has your nose."

"Yeah?" Gary questioned, stroking her tiny cheek with the back of his index finger. "Well, she has your lips."

"And dancer's legs," I added in, too quickly, even though she was just born. Watch. Erin's going to be a dancer. We created this little life in my arms. "She really is beautiful, Gary."

"Just like her mother."

And then we kissed to seal the deal on our new beginning.

--

It's been about ten weeks since Erin was born, so she is now two and a half months and let me tell you that our house is actually is a lot more bouncier and busier.

In between feedings, and changing diapers (Gary won't touch the poopie ones – cute wuss of mine), I'm also back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Remember I joked about playing DDR for three hours straight to lose weight, it actually worked. And the workout and diet helped as well, but Dance Dance Revoloution was freaking fun. Gary's working from home more rather than the office for a while before we can get into a routine that works.

But yeah, down at the arcade, I'm known as the crazy psycho DDR lady.

Well, but at least, I have the highest score now…EVER! The only kid I have to beat to actually get the World's Highest Score is some kid in Singapore.

I didn't even know that they had Dance Dance Revolution in Singapore.

Not to say that they're dirt poor or anything, but..you know.

…

There's no underlying offence! Jesus. Just natural curiosity that makes me effing human!

So, here's the wrap up:

Everyone has been great. I brought Erin to PCA only about twice – once, I visited and two, I actually needed someone to babysit her one Saturday while Gary and I actually napped. You haven't to understand that there was no negligence here. Seriously, I think we just mumbled incoherent gibberish that translated to I love you, and that was it. We fell asleep. Turned off all phones, except the cell phone and just slept. We needed it, and we trust Chase and Zoey well enough.

Imagine my surprise when I come back and realize the only non-family person she's attached to is…Logan.

Watch out, Quinn.

He was asleep (he was up all night with his brother helping him get prepared for some surf meet thing -- that's why Ethan wasn't around) on the couch with Erin sort of sleeping on him.

"Ah, I'll miss you too, Dollface," Logan said, giving Erin back to me, but not before he tickled her tummy and she gave him the beginnings of a smile. "Seriously, tell anybody I'm actually attached to Erin and we'll have a problem."

"Aww, I think it's cute. It's quite endearing," Quinn replied, kissing him. He smiled slightly, and rubbed his eyes.

"Yeah, and you're the only one allowed to think so."

Oh, right. The rep thing. Gotcha.

"Look at you being all nice and such," Michael teased, getting a glare form Logan. "You never show anyone, besides Quinn probably, your noodle monkey – "

"David Monkeyhoff isn't noodle-like," he defended. "Your stupid Bobo Bear is one-eyed anyway! Moneyhoff can take him any day!"

Michael looked at incredulously, shaking his head, "Uh-uh. I know you just did NOT diss Bobo."

Long story short: Quinn sighed, and left to deal with the argument while calling Lisa for back up.

And then I left after seeing, and introducing everyone to Erin.

Keegan (Mr. Bender's kid) toddled over to her and kissed her cheek with a loud, "Muah! Baby!"

The kid's straight pimpin'. I mused.

Erin's become quite the character, developing a personality I can't really identify yet. Now, she's learning to raise her head on her own little by little. She loves her formula and her (well my) breast milk. If she doesn't get it, it's Mount St. Erin up in here. Contrary to what I thought, she sleeps through the night even though it was hard in the beginning.

Let's just say, Gary and I could've been given parts of _Night of Living Dead_ if a casting agent were right there, and we wouldn't have to act because we were dead tired.

Pun not intended.

She's a friendly baby, and now she smiles all the time unless she's hungry or tired and wanting to go to sleep. Then it's like, "If I'm not happy, nobody's happy, so excuse me while I cry loudly and wreak havoc, Mom!"

Susan helps all the time. Jerry totally adores her, and I could have sworn seeing my father's eyes cloud of with tears when I told him about the extra middle name.

Karen and Steve are around a lot more, and we even let Robyn sleep over for about a week because she wanted to help us.

Julie and I talk a lot more surprisingly, especially now the stuff going down with Paul.

I guess she's finding something in me that'll help her vent, and I'll listen because I'm actually willing to and not wishing to be shot in the ear so I can't hear any of it.

That's some Mr. and Mrs. Smith shit right there. We're not all sisterly, but at least we're getting there and don't take low blows at each other. Jamie treats Erin like more of a little sister, and he's so protective of her, it's so cute, but nice that Jamie understands at such a young age.

And no.

Don't even get into the lemonade thing. I quite enjoyed it very much, as sadistic as it was, but we're leaving that alone. Don't go there!

She'll never know.

Dean has this new girl in his life, which would explain why he's not as perverted. Shannon, he says.

Apparently, the magic of my circumstance brought them together, and Aunt Rosie still hits the booze hard, and I think she's trained herself to be sober and wasted at the time. Wonder if she can do that while suffering cirrhosis one day.

Oops, knock on wood. Even though, it's inevitable.

Now, on to my BFFs.

Stan and Leah have an even more complicated relationship. She explained to me while visiting her "rockin' godkid,", and I think I may need therapy. I'll only dive into the shallow end because if I go any farther you may need to go to therapy too, and I don't want to scar any of you for life.

But if you want to do it yourself.

Watch the god-awful Spankwire in which crazy, deranged people(?) assault their…uhm, area.

Lighting them on fire, and flattening it (if you're a guy, you'll feel this, and be a cringing mess. Gary did. Erin was asleep, and thank God, she cried when she did, because I stood and BOLTED!) is just one of the ways.

If you want to scar yourself, then yeah…do that.

"I don't love Stan, but Jesus Laura, when he kisses and he touches me, it's like he's a whole different person. He's not dorky and a tool, but I know he's not himself when we're in that "state". I love Robert, but I strangely turned on by Stan. I have no idea why, and it's messing me up big time. I don't know why Veronica left if she was just in it for the fucking –"

"Leah!"

"Well, Robert's okay in the sack, but Stan's just…I don't know…it's like live-action porn uncensored. It's, well, rough, and we hurt each other. There's biting, and scratching…and a whole bunch of things."

A normal person would have chose hickeys, but nooo…not Leah. She particularly raked his neck. It's like the scratches of a cat on steroids.

I had a sarcastic remark forming in my head about how much she was selling the upcoming porn tape with DVD extras, but it couldn't come.

I was busy burping Erin, and gaping at her at the same time.

And this is why I may need therapy.

Did I forget anyone?

…

…

Nope. No? Okay, then.

So, that's how it's been. I actually asked Dean Rivers for six months instead of three, so I'll be back at work in January.

Now, if you don't mind, I hear the beginnings Erin crying upstairs, but I like my life a whole lot better.

I'm a mother and a guidance counselor. And I get to teach dance too? It's like a winning the lottery.

-insert happy dance, which I can ACTUALLY do now- Yep. Still got it.

(Out of boredom last week at a barbecue, Robyn and I broke into cartwheels, while Chase jumped over the fence without barely touching it! Luckily, I caught that on video because I don't think he would be able to do that again. The boy was born with a smidge of anti gravity, I know he was. We're lovably crazy! Everybody scream!)

...

Life is most defintely where I want it.

* * *

**A/N: Oh. My. God. This story is actually over. I left a lot of open-ended stuff to be explored in the much longer sequel. It'll start from January (after Holiday break) to about May-June (prom/graduation) time. Oh, wow. I can't get over the fact that this story is finished!**

**THANKYOU! **

**From the bottom of my heart, thank you to everybody who reviewed, left a PM, gave me a bunch of ideas to use and just made this story fun and into something quite epic (for me anyway). I appreciate the love and I'm ready to FINALLY put this story to rest. Excuse any errors you might find. It's nearly 2AM here, so forgive me! **

**I'm formulating a Quogan Hallowen piece that finally came to me. I know. It's late, but I'll write it anyway because it's haunting me, lol. **

**Vote at my new poll. I cleaned up the profile a little bit because it was getting too cluttered.**

**Review for the last time and make it count! **

**Once again, thank you!**

**-Erika**


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